Twilight Rising
by Lady Fellshot
Summary: A ancient door is opened and three friends must overcome distance and magic to reunite. A fic set after the Last Mythal trilogy. Mildly AU. Okay, by now it's probably very AU.
1. Shutting the Way

Disclaimer: The Forgotten Realms are not mine. Some of the characters in this are though.

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Kaeldin could feel the end coming and could barely work up the energy to care. The season before, he held Timiri's hand in his and told her that all would work out eventually. If the neighboring Vyshaantar Empire got too uppity again, they would have moved to Illefarn and continued to go in their own path as best they could.

That was before he came home late from an apprentice's relatively minor mishap at Kraanfhaor to find a bigger one at their home. His front door had been in shambles, scorch marks marred the floors and walls and two dead sun elf assassins lay sprawled n the wrecked study, all silent testament to his dead wife's skill with both blade and spell. Before he had found his beloved so still and cold with a knife in her back and her blood in a still dark pool around her. Before he had gathered Timiri up in his arms and cried.

Now, he squelched the wail that threatened to erupt from his throat and surveyed the oncoming magical storm with his magesight. To normal vision, it would appear as a great blood red thunderhead. Kaeldin could see the death magics and pestilences bound up in the oncoming storm. Any rain that fell promised a long, slow death to anyone caught out under it.

"High Mage Kaeldin?" called a soft discreet voice next to the numb sylvan elf. "The others are waiting in the vault."

Kaeldin turned to the figure standing behind him and saw through the surface form of a handsome, silver haired moon elf to the majestic dragon underneath. The mage felt comfortable around dweomers to augment one's sight but noted that having the effect on him all the time was starting to become more than a little disconcerting. He snorted softly. It was not likely that he would live long enough to get used to it.

The disguised silver dragon looked at him askance before turning and heading towards the library's great vault himself. Kaeldin shook his head and sighed. No one, including himself had expected the _telmiirkara neshyrr_, the rite of transformation, to work, let alone allow Grand Mage Corythin's plan to save some small part of Miyeritar from the coming disaster.

Point in fact, Kaeldin had volunteered to undergo the untested magical transformation because some part of him had wanted the ritual to fail, so he could join Timiri in Arvenardor. "Well," the high mage thought ruefully, "Some part of me is with her, literally. The eladrin saw to that..."

The wood elf's path of thought was interrupted by the arcane Maelstrom sparking against the outermost defenses of the mythal protecting the wizard academy and it's surrounding deserted town. "If only there were more of us," he thought bleakly. Timiri had not been the only Miyeritari mage killed in the past few months. Vyshaantar's assassins had been very busy and very messy in their tasks. Seven high mages, including Kaeldin, were left to guard Kraanfhoar's doors, a sad decline from the twenty four high arcanists from a year ago.

Kaeldin turned away from the oncoming storm of enemy high magic and started his way down into the bowels of the wizard school's main tower. The halls echoed too loudly with each step he took. The echoes should have been masked by the quiet murmur of apprentices, novices and lesser mages in the twilit halls of the citadel. All of them had been sent away, hopefully safe from the coming destruction, but no diviner had been able to see any sort of clear, safe path for anyone recently.

The vault of the main library sat deep underground but enchantments in the huge room's ceiling let starlight sparkle throughout the room. No moon showed in the illusory sky as a new moon hid from Toril on this night, the better to seal off Miyeritar high magic from the Vyshaanti invaders.

Kaeldin nodded to the assembled mages and dragons as he took his place and looked around. Through his new arcane sight, he could see the magical defenses woven about the chamber stretching up into the ceiling and into the stone of the tower above. More threads and auras emanated from the elves and dragons around him, creating little cocoons of magic around each one.

Lean and rangy on Kaeldin's left, Psittia looked as if this was just one more battle in an unending string of them. Her robes and light armor of soft pale green, set off her flame colored hair and copper skin. Next to the warmage, The diviner Sophon looked as pale as one with inky black skin could get. He looked as worn out as an overused dishrag as he sat at his appointed place rather than standing like the rest. His attempts at scrying another way out had ultimately failed, but this one, shrouded in darkness and waiting as it was, had a small glimmer of hope to it. They could hide the tower until the right apprentice came along and successfully got through the door, freeing the guardian from his task and reopening Miyeritar high magic to the elves.

Nefelis, the only surviving evoker of the tower stood next in the circle with her black hair braided down her back, stray strands framing a face that might have been carved and sanded from cherry wood. Artemio the illusionist, world weary and spent, brushed his dark honey hair off his crestfallen face as he waited for the spellcasting to begin. Tiny Lilleen looked as serene as if she had already passed into Arvenardor, her fine, silvery hair gently pulled back from her dark face, hands folded in front of her dusty blue robes. She met Kaeldin's opalescent gaze evenly. Kaeldin and Lilleen had volunteered to undergo the telmiirkara neshyrr and had drawn straws to determine which of them would do so. Kaeldin ended up with the short straw. The abjurer and lore mistress nodded at him and turned her attention towards the last elf in the room.

Grand Mage Corythin somehow still managed to hold himself tall against the despair and hopelessness that the rest of Kraanfhaor's high mages felt. His dark chocolate skinned face still held the same resolute expression that he had adopted when this latest mess began, although his flaxen hair now sported streaks of grey and lived in a perpetual state of rumpled unkemptness. "Are we ready to begin?" the old elf called to the circle of high mages.

A silent collection of nods greeted the master high mage. Sophon got up and added his assent to the rest. The four dragons shifted into their true forms, filling in the outlines Kaeldin saw surrounding the much smaller elven forms they previously wore. The huge vault suddenly seemed much smaller as it became cluttered with wings, tails, necks and bodies of two gold, a silver and an emerald dragon. The biggest gold wyrm rumbled in a basso voice, "We are ready as well, Grand Mage."

"Then let us start." Corythin raised his hands and started to intone the long, complicated incantation that would set the traps, wards and tests that would hopefully keep all mages from Aryvandaar out of their tower and away from Miyeritar developments in high arcana. The rest of the mage circle did the same and started their own weavings. After a few moments, the dragons added their voices to the chorus.

At first, Kaeldin could see nothing come of their combined spellcasting. Then little streamers of light seemed to grow through each mage's hands, including his own. As they continued to cast, the strands from each elf wove together and tied themselves into knots to bind them tight. The dragons sprouted veritable geysers of magic that served as a framework for the elves' weavings.

The strands themselves started to grow brighter and disappear into the vaulted ceiling and into the surrounding tower. Kaeldin lost track of time as the spellcasting continued. The dragons and their framework of light strands melded into the structure the elves wove.

Time passed.

Kaeldin's voice grew hoarse and ragged as their combined weaving continued and his hands and arms began to tire. The dragons were gone, their final magics added to the wards in a powerful wave, absorbing the reptilian bodies and setting loose the souls to the platinum dragon's realm. Strands of light threaded through all of the high mages, binding them all tighter to the casting and the protective shell they wove. The elves began to look more and more transparent as the casting took more and more away from them.

Nefelis's form suddenly went completely transparent and twinkling like a captive star in the wizard's chest hovered her soul, now visible due to the nature of the spells the mages cast. Strands of light emanated from the soulstar and started to tie themselves into the weaving and anchor into the stone of the spellcasting vault. As the last strand of light left the high mage's hands, she regained solidity and the soullight flashed around her. Nefelis dropped to the floor, but the twinkling soulstar stayed where it was. It gave another strong flash and the evoker sent out her last good wishes to the circle before passing on to Arvenardor.

The sense of where the Citadel of Kraanfhaor sat started to shift and Kaeldin's sense of the passage of time started to disappear. The feeling became stronger as Sophon, Psittia and Artemio tied up their ends and left for Arvenardor. The new magical wards felt more secure and Kaeldin felt the magic bind him to the tower until he passed the lore on to a successor.

Lilleen soon made her own binding to the tower, swearing to serve as Kaeldin's eyes and ears to the outside world as a spirit. Then she too let the magic take her away to the Grey Havens, leaving Kaeldin and the grand mage as the only elves still standing.

Grand Mage Corythin laid the last of the bindings on Kaeldin then the two high mages finished tying off the weaving shielding Kraanfhaor. Corythin became fully transparent and his soul blazed like a captive sun before leaving the grand mage's mortal form for Arvenardor.

Kaeldin felt hot tears running down his face as he finished his own casting for the spell of hiding. Immediately into the echoing silence, the lone high mage cast transporting spells to lay the bodies of his fellow arcanists in the crypts they had prepared for themselves.

"Well," Kaeldin told the vault, "I hope Sophon's right about that apprentice coming eventually." He paused, "I hope Lilleen brings me a message or two from Timiri while I wait too."

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Author's note: There will eventually be more to this story, but I want to finish off my other long tale before putting the axe to the grindstone on this one. Leave a review if you like


	2. An Interview

Disclaimer: Some of the characters in this are mine and some are not. The idea is definitely mine. No one else would want it anyway.

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_**The present**_

Ricardt Arniss looked again at the address that Blazidon One-Eye had handed to him that morning and then at the door of the tavern across the street. Like many taverns in Waterdeep, this one had two door guards. Unlike all the others, the door guards were a pair of sun elves bigger than the paladin.

Sighing, Ricardt walked up to the tavern's entrance and was predictably stopped by the bouncers. "Friends," he said in Elven, "I have been asked to meet a potential employer here and have no wish to quarrel with any of the Tel'Quessir."

The door guard on the paladin's right looked at his fellow and shrugged. The left hand bouncer opened the tavern door and glared a warning at the raven haired paladin. Ricardt took note of the silent warning and strode into the Elfstone tavern without further ado.

The decor looked as if someone had found a picture of a forest and then transformed the structure of the building to resemble it. Ceiling supports were carved to look like trees and the live, climbing vines added verdant foliage to the illusion. Softly lit lanterns hung from the "branches," lending an ethereal light to the place.

The paladin again looked at the note Blazidon's secretary had given him. Ricardt was supposed to meet a Maresa Rost on behalf of himself and his two traveling companions to act as guards or scouts for some sort of exploration expedition. The note included that Rost should be very easy to find in the elven tavern. Ricardt sighed as he quietly looked through the busy tavern and wished that Teilla and Mirandaline had come along. Both of them had a knack for picking out the unusual.

The paladin scanned the crowd again and found himself distracted by a young lady sitting alone, dressed entirely in vermilion red. He looked a little closer and almost dismissed her as a really pale moon elf until he saw the woman's hair wafting around her head of its own accord. Like many well off taverns, the Elfstone had good ventilation, but nothing strong enough to blow someone's hair straight up and keep it up there, slowly twining around itself.

Having at least a passing acquaintance with persons of unusual ancestry, Ricardt figured first, that the woman was a genasi of some kind and second, that she might be the Maresa Rost that Blazidon had referred to. Well, he thought, Nothing to left to do but go and ask her.

He eased his way through the tables towards the genasi in red. The table she sat at had three empty chairs at it, two with what smelled like mulled wine in front of them. The genasi saw the paladin as he got closer and eyed him in challenge. Ricardt kept his expression open and honest, an easy feat, as he stepped up to her table and asked, "Your pardon, my lady? Might you be Maresa Rost?"

The genasi nodded and looked him over. "You must be Ricardt Arniss then. Where are your cohorts?"

Unperturbed by either the brusque reception or the line of inquiry, Ricardt answered easily, "Mirandaline's heretofore avoided cities like poison oak. Teilla's showing her the sights. Anyway, both of them trust me to scout out the job offers."

Maresa nodded and looked over his shoulder. He followed her gaze and found a taller, broader man in the regalia of a Morninglord of Lathander looking down at him with an odd looking sun elf behind him carrying a scroll cases and sporting lots of pockets in his clothing. The oddness centered around the tall elf's eyes. They lacked pupil or iris and constantly shifted color.

Covering his surprise with courtesy, Ricardt stood up and proffered his hand towards the new pair. "Hello. May I take it that you keep company with Lady Rost?"

"Yes, you may" the strange elf took the paladin's hand in an adventurer's clasp. "I am Araevin Teshurr and this is Donner Kerth of the Order of Aster. You must be Ricardt Arniss of Tyr."

"It would be downright bizarre if he wasn't," Maresa chuckled.

"I am," Ricardt nodded. "My companions send their regrets at not being available tonight."

"If you and the ranger are as good as rumor and hearsay tell us, then we can put up with the bard," Donner Kerth stated in a rough deep voice.

"Teilla pulls her own weight," Ricardt said evenly. "She drew maps of the last place we went exploring. Very good ones I might add."

Maresa glared at the Lathanderite where he sat. "One of them turned up at Serpentil's Books, remember? She'll be useful." The genasi turned back to Ricardt, "You were also very easy to find out about. Did you know that a lot of Tyrran paladins don't like you very much?"

"I was aware of it Lady Rost," Ricardt sighed. "A conflict of methods regarding conflicts."

"We were not able to find out much about your ranger though," Araevin commented on the genasi's left, "Aside from that she is a very good archer and sometimes called the Duskhunter of Whizban."

"Duskhunter? Mir will probably like the sound of that one," the Tyrran paladin chuckled, "In all honesty though, she has only recently started wandering in lands far from her own and is very shy as a matter of course." Particularly around the Fair folk, he silently groaned.

"Anyway," Maresa broke into Ricardt's line of thought, "If she's half as good with a bow as rumor suggests, I won't care about a lack of reputation. You're hired."

"Right," Ricardt took a deep breath and blew it out. "So the chit I got from Blazidon said you needed people for some sort of exploration expedition. Care to add any details?"

"With any luck it'll be more of an excavation once we get there," Araevin told him. "The getting there and back will likely be the place where we'll most need your skills, although Lady Hawksman will likely be useful once we start."

Ricardt frowned slightly, "You still haven't told me where we are going." The paladin silently summoned his faith to discern if those in front of him served dark powers or spoke less than the truth.

The strange elven mage answered, "It'll be safer to tell you on the way there. Can you meet us at the South gate tomorrow an hour after dawn? We'd like to start riding then."

Ricardt nodded, having found no trace of evil or falsehood on any of the trio in front of him, "We'll need to procure supplies and horses tonight then. I bid you good night, sirs, lady." He stood, bowed and started to pick his way towards the tavern door. He had much to consider as he made his way through the early evening towards the Sailor's Corner where he planned to tell Teilla and Mirandaline of their new employment.

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"That has to be the weirdest group, besides us, I've heard of in a while," Teilla told the paladin in the room the trio shared. The cubby was just spacious enough for two narrow beds, a bed stand between them and a heavy chest under the room's one window with Mirandaline's hammock hung above it.

Ricardt supposed that some might assume he always had a lovely time sharing a room with two reasonably pretty ladies. Point in fact, Mirandaline did not sleep and he and Teilla were usually so tired that by the time they got to an actual inn, they would drop, packs and travel cloaks and immediately fall asleep, sometimes not in that order.

Teilla Hawksman stood a little shorter than Ricardt. He stood a full hand span shorter than most other paladins he ran across, including Donner Kerth. The half elven bard kept her blazingly red hair gently tied back where it could frame a pale face with tawny brown eyes and softly pointed ears. She paced the small room in a white shirt with little blue and red flowers embroidered on the sleeves and collar, scarlet trousers and her usual pair of weather beaten brown boots.

So quiet that one would only see her if one looked directly at her, sat Mirandaline Sparrowhawk. Standing, the young elf came up to Ricardt's shoulder and watched everything out of uptilted green eyes in a dark chocolate face. She, like Teilla, wore an embroidered white blouse but with leafy green vines on the shoulders and around the neckline. The elf ranger wore a pair of brown trousers a few shades lighter than her skin and a laced up dark wool vest. Mirandaline kept her long hair braided, coiled and hidden under a pale grey kerchief and had done so in every town outside of her native Whizban to better hide its soft cloud grey color. "I've seen stranger," she commented, "But I've never heard of elves with eyes like that. Maybe he's from one of the outer planes."

"You sound remarkably calm for someone who likes to disappear when strangers appear," the bard noted.

"Since when would panicking help?" Mirandaline muttered then continued in a clearer voice, "Besides, they want me for scouting and arrow fire. Most of the time I won't be anywhere near this Teshurr. When I am, I suppose I'll have to keep my hair covered and use that darkening stuff for lashes and eyebrows."

"You do look almost exactly like a wild elf when you do so," Ricardt observed. "I just wish you didn't need the deception."

"It beats finding out too late that he's one of the Black Archer's adherents," the ranger sighed. "And besides I can't break your word just because I'm nervous. No matter how prudent it might be to do so..."

"Lighten up," Teilla gently shook the elf's shoulder. "You wouldn't have been able to hide from the world forever."

"It'll be all right," Ricardt assured the nervous ranger. "Teilla and I are here. We'll keep them off you as best we can." The red haired bard nodded firmly in agreement.

"I suppose I can't ask for more than that," Mir sighed. "If you two want to get some rest, I can go and get supplies tonight."

"Going to say good by to Kyriani?" Teilla grinned.

"Of course," the slight ranger pulled on her long, green, hooded coat. "And see if she might be interested in some of that home brew your uncle makes. I'll look around for some stables too, but I don't think any will be selling until tomorrow."

"Don't bother with the stables," Ricardt told the elf. "I can get horses for us at the Halls of Justice, provided I leave a deposit and bring them back."

"Right, see you in the morning," Mirandaline waved as she slipped out the door.

"Well," Teilla looked back at Ricardt, "The hard part's over with."

"No, the hard part will come if and when Lady Rost and company find out Mir's parentage," the paladin corrected. "Till then, I'm planning on sleeping on the problem."

"Good bye civilization," Teilla sighed theatrically, kicked off her boots and turned in to sleep.

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	3. Trailhead

Disclaimer: I own some of these characters but not all of them and I don't own the Forgotten Realms. Suing me would be akin to teaching a goat to sing, so don't.

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The day dawned grey and foggy, much like Teilla's state of mind. Mornings were not her favorite time of the day. Ricardt and Mirandaline, irritatingly enough, did not share the bard's dawn grogginess. The paladin had managed to procure three small horses for the trip and the supplies in the saddlebags were the ranger's doing. They waited at the South Gate of Waterdeep for Maresa Rost and her companions to go wherever it was the genasi was headed. Teilla leaned against the solid bay mare that Ricardt had gotten for her and tried to stay warm.

The bard looked over at the black haired paladin and found him scanning the early morning merchants for the woman who had hired them. He kept his heavy blue cloak wrapped tightly to keep the misty chill off as he checked his chestnut gelding's tack and absently patted the horse's neck. His chainmail lay over his pale arming coat and under his surcoat bearing the hammer and scales of Tyr.

Teilla looked a little past the paladin and could barely see Mirandaline or her grey dappled mare against the fog. The small horse had taken to the ranger right away. More correctly, the grey mare took to the apple the woods-elf had hidden in a pocket. The ranger was snug in her long coat of mixed grey, green and brown fading into each other, the result of a careful job dyeing the fabric rather than magic. The mixed race elf's mist colored hair was safely hidden under a scarf and her pale lashes and eyebrows were darkened with a careful application of Teilla's cosmetics.

The bard watched Mirandaline carefully cut a pear into pieces with her hunting knife and give a quarter to her horse and a quarter to Ricardt's mount before tossing a slice to Teilla. The red haired half elf caught the bit of fruit and let her horse munch on the tidbit as The ranger turned back and made sure her bow and quiver were secured to the saddle.

Teilla hoped the disguise held. Judging by the nervous way Mirandaline kept glancing around, the bard guessed that the ranger hoped so too. Ricardt's voice interrupted Teilla's musing, "There they are. Good morning!" The paladin waved in the direction of someone dressed entirely in bright red.

The stranger got closer and Teilla could distinguish the woman's bluish skin tone and swirling hair. A tall blond sun elf and a powerfully built priest leading two horses apiece followed the genasi. She came up and gave Ricardt a firm handclasp before surveying Teilla and Mirandaline. "Well, you'll do," Maresa said in a brisk tone, "Even if the ranger is a bit shorter than I thought."

The dark woods-elf did not seem to hear her. Teilla saw the ranger frowning intently at Araevin. The sun elf mage seemed to ignore the attention and said in a smooth voice, "Well, we're all here. Shall we be off?"

Teilla shrugged and mounted up with everyone else. Mirandaline started towards the gate at a quick pace. Maresa followed and caught up with the ranger as the smaller elf passed through the gate. Teilla smiled apologetically at everyone else and said, "That would mean 'yes' and probably 'get me out of this warren' too."

"So you have not convinced her of the virtues of cities yet?" Ricardt asked with amusement as they followed the archer and the genasi.

"She said that she'd sooner wiggle through a tight tunnel than stand in the middle of the marketplace," the bard grinned.

Ricardt chuckled, "That sounds about right."

"Has she ever been to an elven city before?" Araevin asked. "Or Silverymoon? Elven and elf inspired layouts tend to be more pleasing to those accustomed to the woods."

As the paladin abruptly choked off his amusement, Teilla said in a neutral tone, "No, I don't think so." _Nor is she ever likely to_, the bard silently added then asked aloud, "So, where are we going?"

"We're not even out of sight of Waterdeep yet. Why do you need to know?" Donner Kerth rumbled suspiciously.

"Because if we end up in the belly of a troll, I for one would like to be assured it was in a noble cause," Ricardt answered and held his horse back to draw even with the large Lathanderite.

"We'll be better able to help and less of hindrance if we know what's going on," Teilla added in a reasonable tone. "Besides, Mir might have already gotten your big secret out of Maresa by now."

The sound of the genasi laughing merrily ahead of them cut off whatever Donner had been about to say. Teilla glanced ahead and saw Maresa and Mirandaline riding together. The ranger and genasi were both speaking in some unfamiliar language. Reading their expressions and body language, the bard guessed that the two were swapping tales. The red haired half elf smiled. At least someone in this outfit was enjoying their conversation. Teilla turned back to the strange sun elf mage and live skinned priest and looked at them both expectantly.

Araevin huffed an irritated sigh, his strange eyes whirling pale colors to their own rhythm, "There's a cavern in the High Moor that leads to a catacomb that supposedly hold lost elven magic. We are going to open it."

"Why?" Teilla asked and took a better look at the elven wizard. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ricardt do the same thing and she continued, "Most of the time, there's a good reason elven lore gets buried and forgotten." She watched Araevin wince slightly and added, "But I'm sure you didn't need me to tell you that."

The sun elf mage pointedly turned to watch the surrounding countryside. Teilla turned back to Ricardt, who shrugged and rode up next to bard. For a few paces the pair rode ahead of Donner and Araevin before the paladin said in a low voice, "He still isn't lying."

Teilla glared at Ricardt, "I know that. I do think somewhere along the way he found something he thought he wanted, but the cost of it was too high."

"I'd gathered that too," the black haired paladin noted. "I'd like to apologize in advance if our employers get us all killed."

"Aren't you the optimist today," the bard dryly observed.

"Actually, I am," Ricardt said with a straight face, "Mir hasn't been shot at by anyone yet and nobody's griped at me for having both honor and sense."

"What about me?" Teilla mock pouted.

"You have yet to play something out of tune," the paladin maintained his serious demeanor but his humor leaked out around the edges of his tone. The bard chuckled in response.

Up ahead, Teilla saw Mirandaline break away from Maresa and start riding ahead of the party. The dark brown skinned elf waved a quick hand signal back to the bard and paladin before taking off. Ricardt asked, "What's Mir up to?"

Teilla, who had been learning drow hand cant from the archer, answered, "'Dusk explanation' she says. Either that or 'moldy fungus.'"

"I'd take the first one then," the paladin said and glanced back at the dour Donner and the closemouthed Araevin. Neither of them gave any indication to have noticed the woods-elf's hand signal.

Up ahead, Maresa reined her horse in and waited for Ricardt and Teilla to catch up to her. "Mirandaline's scouting ahead," the genasi grinned at the pair, "I see you've managed to annoy both Araevin and Donner."

"It was somewhere between a walk in through the trees and ridiculously easy," the bard noted, then shrugged, "I know what a lot of sun elves think about anyone who isn't also a sun elf and many religious types, with the exception of Ricardt here, can be rather over serious."

"And I've got my humorless moments now and then," the paladin admitted. "So where are we going anyway. Mage Teshurr's been rather close mouthed about it and I'm really starting to wonder."

"Somewhere in the High Moor," Maresa told them then shook her head. "A buried vault. Araevin has access to some previously lost spells he thinks will get us inside."

"The High Moor?" Teilla thought a moment. "There are some songs about a kingdom destroyed there. Some of them are really old too."

"Yeah, well, I'm more of a magpie," Maresa chuckled. "If it's shiny, I'll pick it up. Now, if you two will excuse me..." The genasi rode back to Araevin and started talking quietly with the brooding mage.

Teilla turned back to Ricardt and whispered, "Why do I get the feeling that the mage is the real leader of this expedition?"

"Maresa hires us to go to a place that only Araevin really knows about. Donner tags along for the ride," Ricardt nodded his agreement. "Sounds to me that Mage Teshurr is trying to do something incognito with Morninglord Kerth and Lady Rost helping him."

"And now us, by extension," the red haired half elf frowned. "I'll see if I can remember those old songs and ballads. We can compare notes at dusk with Mir, since she seems to think that she found something out."

--)--------

Dusk found the party at a small clear spring with a stand of willows sheltering it. Teilla carefully picked a spot to lay her bedroll, Unsaddled her little brown mare and gave the horse enough lead to browse. Looking around, the bard could see everyone else doing the same except for Mirandaline. The dark woods-elf had scouted out the place an hour before everyone else had gotten there. The archer's bedroll was safely hanging on a willow's sturdier branches and the slight elf busily brushed her grey mare.

Ricardt got a fire going and soon had a pot of something called "pilaf" cooking after declaring that they could get tired of stew later. Araevin and Donner magically warded their little camp while Maresa cut straws for determining who stood watch first.

Mirandaline piped up, "If no one minds, I'd like to take the first watch."

"I'll stay up with you," Teilla volunteered. Shrugging, Maresa eliminated two straws from her handful and proffered them to the menfolk of the party. Ricardt and Araevin drew the short straws. The dark haired paladin wolf down his pilaf and promptly turned in to sleep. Araevin ate quickly and then settled into Reverie sitting against a tree trunk. Maresa, Teilla, Mirandaline and Donner ate with more leisure.

When the genasi and the priest settled in for the night, Teilla scooted close to Mirandaline and asked softly, "So what did you find out?"

The bard watched the ranger glance at their resting compatriots before answering, "They were all part of that elven army chasing demons around Cormanthor."

"Doesn't sound like you have all the details yet," the half elf observed.

"I wouldn't hold my breath for the rest of them. The impression I got was that Maresa was worried about divulging information that might screw things over there. She's a bit suspicious of an elf that did not go running to Miritar's banner," the archer grimaced and shifted her seat. "There's more. The mage isn't... well..."

"Forthcoming?" Teilla offered.

"Entirely elf," Mirandaline finished, then explained, "It's like part of him isn't there anymore."

The bard frowned, "Could you be more specific?"

"You know how elves can sort of sense when other elves are around?" Mirandaline asked slowly. At Teilla's nod, the ranger continued, "It's stronger or weaker depending on how strong or weak a group's sense of community is. A band of wood elves can sense each other much better than a group of drow of any stripe."

"How can you sense the connection then?" the bard asked, curious. "You're part dark elf..."

"And sylvan elf on my mother's side," Mirandaline reminded her, "With mind magic to boot. I have a tough time not sensing it sometimes. And I did have other elves around when I was little, thank you very much. It's entirely possible I have relatives in the army at Cormanthor now."

"Oh," Teilla felt a little uncomfortable and fidgeted with a stray thread on her sleeve. Changing the subject, the bard asked, "I can't say that I've ever felt a connection with elves. Does it work for half bloods?"

"Sometimes," the archer shrugged. "I think it has to do with which culture is more dominant to the individual. Weren't you raised human?"

"My mother's human and still on good terms with my dad, but she's the one who I grew up the most with," Teilla said matter of factly. "Actually for a sun elf, he's downright boisterous and as talkative as a blue jay. Not at all like the example we have at hand."

Mirandaline nodded, then continued, "Anyway, think of a normal, full blood elf as a large campfire. Half bloods, when I pick them up, are more like a single torch afire."

"And Araevin?" the red haired bard prompted.

"On this scale he rates a candle flame," the ranger finished. "It's like part of him isn't there."

"His manner screams 'Evermeet' to me," Teilla noted. "You know we're going to a buried vault in the High Moor, right?"

The ranger nodded and glanced at the rest of the party. Teilla did the same and saw that they were all resting soundly in their various ways. Mirandaline turned back to the bard and said softly, "If I remember my history lessons correctly, the High Moor used to be part of the elven realm of Miyeritar, right?"

"Destroyed during the Crown Wars," Teilla nodded. "I bet our employers are after something specific."

"I'm not going to worry overmuch about that until I have to," the archer shrugged and poked at the campfire. "I have more immediate concerns to health and well being at hand than ancient lore."

Mirandaline turned back to watching for trouble. Teilla stowed her musing and stared off into the night.

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Author's note: to all who have read to here, thank you. Please leave a review to say if you like it so far or that this was a horrible waste of time or if you have no idea what I'm writing about. If you don't feel like doing it for me, then do it to watch the bits and bytes do their little hula dance through cyberspace.


	4. Roadblocks

Disclaimer: Some is mine, some is not and some is parallel development (I think). Suing me would be an all around waste of time and result in me sending my small fuzzy minions of evil after you.

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A sevenday later, Ricardt had gotten used to the morning routine the party had adopted. Maresa would consult a map with Araevin over breakfast porridge. Afterwards, the sun elf mage would go to study his spell books and Mirandaline would look over the map with the pale skinned air genasi. The two elves' paths would never cross, mostly through the archer's concerted efforts. The rest of the party would then pack up their belongings, help load Donner's pack horse and start heading south down the road.

For all of the area's reputation for bandits, Ricardt found the journey mostly untroubled except for a bit of rain. The paladin suspected that Mirandaline cleared the way as well as scouting ahead. One morning her stopped her to ask quietly, "You aren't biting off more than you can chew when you range off alone, are you?"

"It isn't anything I haven't done before you know," the elven ranger assured him, "Besides, you know I don't like to do anything flashy. And Maresa knows I'm doing a little preemptive chasing off. If I find anything I can't handle, trust me, I'll let you know. There is no way I can hold off a big group of robbers by myself if things go sour." Ricardt had to be satisfied with her logic. He also knew that Mirandaline avoided hand to hand combat if she could and took pains to stay out of close range of enemies and potential enemies, hence her continual avoidance of their employers. The paladin worried anyway but tried to keep it to a minimum.

Most of the time he kept one eye on the surrounding woods or meadows, depending on which one they rode through at the time. Sometimes he talked to Teilla and Maresa. Donner and Araevin occasionally joined in their conversation. The paladin noted that the sun elf wizard had a distant manner most times and appeared morose when he thought no one was watching. Ricardt suspected and Teilla agreed that what ever this trip was, to the mage it was a distraction from something else.

Ricardt found Donner to be cut mostly from the same cloth as himself in ideology but not so much in methods. "At least I don't have to defend my preference for justice through diplomacy from someone from my own church," the Tyrran paladin thought idly.

He noted that Teilla, with her usual sunny disposition, had spectacular luck getting stories out of Maresa, Araevin and Donner about where they had been and what they had been doing. All three were involved with the army of elves sitting at Myth Drannor's doorstep. The firey haired half elf had not been able to extract exactly how involved the three were and in the end both she and Mirandaline had decided that the specifics did not matter to them. Rather, the bard had turned her line of inquiry towards finding out whether or not anyone she or the half drow knew were in the army from Evermeet.

"This day is turning out to be a nice one," the black haired paladin thought as they rode along the main trade road of the Sword Coast. A few fluffy clouds blew across the pale blue sky and a cool breeze had kicked up from the west. The Misty Forest loomed to the east and they planned to cut through it towards the High Moor at around midday. Teilla rode beside him, humming a little tune under her breath. Ricardt thoroughly enjoyed rides like this, but kept alert to anything untoward.

A small nudging at the back of his mind jogged the paladin out of his pleasant mood. Mirandaline hated to send messages via her psionics and only did so when anything else would have unwanted results and if the need was urgent. When Ricardt paid attention to the mental nudging, the woods-elf's soft voice echoed between his ears, _There's a band of brigands with an ambush set up ahead of you. I think there are two mages and a cleric with them._

_How many total?_ Ricardt asked silently.

_Fifteen that I can see, _came the reply_. Wait a moment._ The paladin got the sense that the archer's attention shifted elsewhere then came back. _They look organized and they have a Malarite with them_, Mirandaline added. _I could take out one or two of them easily but then I'd be a little stuck._

_How close are you anyway?_ Ricardt asked, worried.

_You would be happier not knowing_, the elven scout thought back wryly and then the paladin felt Mirandaline's awareness leave.

Ricardt glanced around at the party and found both Teilla and Maresa riding on either side of him. The air genasi frowned at him and said, "So where did you zone off to?"

"What news from Mir?" asked Teilla as Araevin and Donner rode up to join them. "Something ahead?"

Ricardt nodded, "A big, well equipped group of highwaymen. They've set up an ambush ahead."

Maresa narrowed her eyes at the paladin. Donner and Araevin frowned. Ricardt shrugged and continued mildly, " We may wish to consider readying weapons and spoiling their trap."

The pale genasi nodded slowly, pulled out a crossbow from among her saddlebags and loosened her basket hilted rapier in its sheath. Donner checked his sword and shield and Ricardt did the same for his own gear. Araevin simply sat on his horse and Teilla pulled out her recorder. "What is that for?" the big Lathanderite priest asked and pointed at the little wooden instrument.

"Moral support," the bard replied, "Besides, they probably already know we're coming."

The sun elf mage frowned down at the half elven bard and stated, "No one has scried us."

"They wouldn't necessarily have to use magic," Ricardt noted, "A good scout might have gotten by Mir and us. Can we please ready ourselves for a confrontation now or does someone else want to bemoan the situation?"

Araevin still frowned but shook his head. Donner growled, "We should not allow such to molest the unwary."

The paladin grinned, "No, I believe we should show them the error of their ways."

"I hate to interrupt your human male urges to go and split skulls," Maresa harrumphed, "But might it be smarter to stick a branch into their bear trap and then commence with the smiting?"

"So we ride into their ambush but prepared and ready?" the big Lathanderite priest asked. "I could live with this plan."

"As long as some of us are walking rather than riding," Ricardt shrugged. "I fight better on foot."

"Whatever," Teilla said impatiently. "Mir's waiting and probably shouldn't be kept waiting too long."

Maresa nodded and edged her horse to the rear of the party, her crossbow hidden under a cloak. Araevin kneed his own mount towards the genasi with Teilla in tow. Ricardt dismounted and led his horse forwards on the road, his shield on his arm. Ricardt knew that the sight of a paladin on foot, when most preferred to fight on horseback, would likely put the brigands a little at ease. Donner rode alongside him, glancing about warily.

After a few minutes of walking, Ricardt caught sight of a weary looking ranger ahead, not Mirandaline. The tall man flagged the party down and called, "Ho there, can you help me?"

The dark haired paladin silently called upon his faith to discern evil and evil powers while Donner asked after the stranger's name. Ricardt's mind lit up with hostile presences scattered in the grass. The man in front of him fairly blazed with malignant intentions. The paladin sighed inwardly and hoped that the would-be brigands showed at least an iota of redeemable qualities to them, although experience told Ricardt that redemption was unlikely at this juncture. Nonetheless the chance had to be given, the paladin thought and said, "What seems to be the trouble?"

"My friends and I seem to be short of supplies," the stranger came closer, smiling "Fortunately, you all seem to be well equipped."

"I am afraid we can only spare you some food and point you in Daggerford's direction," Donner rumbled from atop his horse.

The ersatz traveler smiled wider as he approached closer and Ricardt noticed that the man kept one hand concealed behind his back. The paladin guessed where the first attack would come from. "And I am afraid that isn't good enough," the newcomer smirked, "Because we are very numerous and you are very few. Get..."

Before the would-be robber could finish, a streak of lightening crackled overhead and shouts erupted from the woods ahead and to the left of the paladin. The stranger in front of Ricardt took the impromptu distraction as an opportunity to swing a broadsword out from behind his back and direct the swing towards the paladin. Ricardt, having suspected such a ploy, took the blow on his shield and shoved outwards, knocking the highwayman back. The paladin took the space he had just opened up to let go of his horse and draw his sword.

Araevin answered the bolt of lightening with a violet blast from one of his wands. Angry shouts turned into cries of pain and Ricardt feverently prayed that Mirandaline was not among them. Then his attention was taken up by the nearest brigand and the paladin shoved his worry to the back of his mind to deal with his immediate threat. Unfortunately, two more robbers sprang up out of the waist high grass to aid their spokesman.

Vaguely, Ricardt realized that other brigands were springing up towards the rest of the party but the paladin had to focus on the three in front of him. Ricardt stepped to the side to line up his two new opponents and swung his sword overhand at the nearest one's face. When the fellow raised his blade to block the blow, the paladin changed his line of attack and looped his longsword's edge into the lower shoulder muscles of the robber's sword arm. The man dropped his blade and and Ricardt shoved him into his confederate. Both of them tumbled to the ground in a confusion of flailing limbs, steel and blood.

The bandit spokesman swung his broad sword at Ricardt's shins. The paladin stepped back as quick as he could but still felt the slash clang painfully against his greaves. Ricardt made the would-be robber pay dearly for the risky low line attack by slashing his longsword across the man's throat. Blood spurted wildly as the body collapsed and Ricardt's two other opponents took the opportunity to flee while they still had use of their wits and their legs. The paladin let them go and quickly looked about to see how his side fared.

Teilla and Maresa still sat astride their horses and four of the robbers appeared to be trying to edge closer to the women, but kept getting shot at by the genasi and her crossbow or taking hits from the bard's wand of missiles. The red haired half elf also sang a northern battlesong at the top of her lungs. Donner and his warhorse had accounted for three dead bandits and busily chased two more into the treeline. Araevin finished frying an enemy mage with an arcane blast of flame as the paladin turned around and the mage went to aid Maresa and Teilla.

Ricardt looked over at the copse of poplars on the left and spotted a few more dead bandits with longbow arrows buried in eyes and throats. The Tyrran ran into the stand of trees and could hear more clearly the sounds of a struggle. He practically tripped over the second bandit mage. The sallow dead man had an arrow buried in his chest and still clutched at a wooden wand. Ricardt guessed that the missing woods-elf had indeed found more trouble than she could easily handle. His suspicions were confirmed a moment later when he found the bandits' makeshift camp and the scene within it.

Mirandaline faced off against a stocky man with tangled mouse brown hair, wielding a spiked mace and wearing vestments decorated with animal teeth, claws and fur. The elven ranger did not have her bow in hand and instead held her hunting knife in a wary guard. Ricardt picked up his pace to reach the enemy priest and help the half drow.

The Malarite started to throw a spell but something unseen slapped his hands and interrupted his casting. Mirandaline feinted in with her short blade and the cultist quickly backpedaled away from the smaller elf. The ranger bolted away from the spellcaster, scooped something up from the ground and started to restring her bow in the partial cover from the grass. The Malarite realized that he had been tricked and started casting at the archer again.

Ricardt came within melee range of the bandit priest as the Malarite finished his spell. A lance of baleful red light streaked towards the elf and struck the the ranger as she drew an arrow back. Mirandaline cried out in pain and dropped to the ground. The paladin slashed in at the cleric and caught the man across the shoulder blades. The Malarite turned and backpedaled away from Ricardt, chanting something ominous sounding. The paladin advanced and started a countering hymn to Tyr. Ricardt wished he could check on the ranger, but could not leave so obvious a threat standing. Stopping his intonation, the paladin demanded, "Yield and be surrendered to Daggerdale for judgment for your crimes!"

The priest grinned smugly and replied, "Come and get me fool, or are you a as cowardly as a field mouse?" Ricardt ignored the insult, which might have convinced a novice to charge in haphazardly and continued his methodical stalking, never taking his eyes off his opponent.

The sound of hoofbeats into the camp startled both of the out of the stand off. The bandit cleric glanced towards the noise and Ricardt moved in to take the offensive. The Malarite looked back at the paladin and tried to bring his weapon up to parry, but Ricardt's sword found the stocky man's belly first. As the priest fell, the paladin ended the man's suffering with a blade thrust to his chest. Mentally shaking his head at the lost opportunity to redeem a fallen soul, the dark haired paladin turned back to where he last saw Mirandaline and heard the hoofbeats.

Donner had arrived on the scene and was dismounting his destrier with his longsword in hand, moving towards a patch of grass that waved wildly about and from which sounds of a struggle could be heard. Ricardt started running towards the Lathanderite and presumably Mirandaline, ready to render whatever assistance he could. The paladin heard a sharp cry of pain the ended in a gurgle as he got closer. Donner advanced on whoever was left with his blade at the ready. Ricardt ran faster and called a healing spell to mind.

When he got there, the Tyrran felt torn between heaving a sigh of relief and groaning in frustration. Mirandaline sat on the ground breathing hard with blood all over her left hand, forearm and the knife she still held. Her cloud grey braid had fallen loose and had bits of grass and twigs stuck in it. A bandit lay dead over her lap with the elf's kerchief tangled in his hand. Donner held his sword at her eye level with an angry look on his face. She glared icily at the Lathanderite and the air around her felt noticeably heavy with tension and the scent of damp ferns, a silent warning that Mirandaline had her mind magic ready should her situation get ugly. Ricardt blew out his breath and asked her, "Are you all right?"

"My middle still hurts, but I'll live," the archer glanced at the paladin, then returned to eying Donner warily. The big Lathanderite looked at her, then looked at Ricardt. Ricardt looked back at Donner and moved a little closer to the half drow elf, silently letting his alliegence known. The priest snorted, turned away, remounted his warhorse and rode back towards the rest of the party.

Ricardt watched him go and then looked back at Mirandaline. She shoved the body off of her and started to wipe her hands and hunting knife on the grass. The verdant smell of her psionics started to dissipate. "Think you can go back to help explain or would you rather disappear for a little while?" he asked carefully. "I could go back and answer questions as easily without you as easily as with."

"Can't leave Teilla hanging like that," she sighed. "My horse is hidden over there in some wild rosemary bushes." The woods-elf picked up her longbow stave with its twice broken string and started walking towards her grey mare's hiding spot.

Ricardt nodded and asked, "Want your kerchief back?"

"No," Mirandaline sighed, "The last robber bled on it a good deal." She retrieved her horse and they walked back to the road to rejoin the rest of the party.

As they neared the troupe, Teilla could be heard arguing with Araevin while Maresa and Donner looked on. The rest of the highway men were either dead or had fled. Ricardt could hear the half elven bard saying, "That is exactly the kind of attitude that's going to leave you without a scout."

"She, and you by extension, lied to us," The sun elf mage said coldly. "Who paid you to tail us?"

"That's ludicrous," Ricardt said calmly as he and the silent ranger came close enough to be heard. "Cast a truth spell if you don't believe us."

Donner blinked and started to growl out a spell. Maresa looked speculatively at Mirandaline, who seemed intent on looking anywhere but the people around her. Araevin waited for the big priest to finish casting, then asked again, "Who hired you?"

The woods-elf looked up and said expressionlessly, "Maresa did for this trip."

"I told you so," Teilla said, irritated.

"Do you honestly think that I would willingly travel with someone dark hearted?" Ricardt asked evenly.

"She could have tricked you," Donner pointed out.

"How?" Teilla retorted hotly.

The elf mage started, "There are spells..."

Mirandaline cut in, "I don't cast."

"The hells you don't," Donner grated out. "What would you call throwing stones without touching them first then?"

The archer poked at the dirt in the road with her boot and sighed, "I didn't know you saw that."

"What does it matter?" Teilla glared archly at Araevin and Donner. "I would say that it's an added bonus for you."

"Donner, Araevin, shut up for a minute will you?" Maresa asked then turned to Mirandaline, "Can you tell me why I was able to find out more regarding you in the Port of Shadow than in Waterdeep?"

The woods-elf shrugged, "I've been approached by two or three drow mercenary groups regarding a position with them. One of them is still trying to convince me to join them."

"Why convince and not kidnap?" the genasi asked.

"Because my hometown is open to absolutely everyone and has a major spell festival every year," Mirandaline explained, "It would not be practical for them to close off a source of healing potions not controlled by Lolthites by committing egregious mischief. Besides, I think they figure that other surface elves will alienate me to the point that I'll join up of my own accord."

Donner's jaw dropped a little and Araevin stared at the slight half drow. Teilla smirked, "I think that's the most they've ever heard you say." Ricardt snickered.

"We still have the problem of a drow mercenary spying among us," Donner grated out.

"I never took up their offer," Mirandaline said quietly.

"There isn't a problem aside from the one one you are insistent upon creating," Ricardt sighed tiredly.

"All of you, be quiet," Maresa said irritably, "The information I got from Blazidon said 'one half elf bard, one human paladin and one elf ranger.' I have not seen anything that contradicts that. Also, they were my hiring decision, not yours. Unless you really think that I would bring undesirables on this trip."

"Don't you trust your own truth spell?" Teilla asked.

Donner settled for grumbling unintelligibly. Araevin frowned at the paladin, bard and scout before saying resignedly, "There aren't any enchantments or illusions on any of them."

"Tyr's justice, you really thought we were all under some kind of spell," Ricardt said incredulously. "After watching us all for seven days."

"Can we please all agree that no one is here against their will and get going?" Maresa glared at everyone, her pale hair swirling about in agitation.

"Sooner there and back and the sooner you never see us again," Teilla commented mildly.

Mirandaline did not wait or an answer and instead mounted up on her grey mare and started down the road, heading south. Maresa shrugged back at her companions and followed the dark woods-elf along the path. Teilla followed and Ricardt got into his saddle and trailed after them. A glance back told the paladin that Donner and Araevin had taken up the rear guard again.

The paladin nudged his bay gelding with his heels and caught up to the varied females of the troupe. "Thank you for being the voice of reason," Teilla told Maresa when Ricardt rode within earshot.

"Purely self interest, you understand," the air genasi smiled, "I don't run across Auran speakers very often."

"In that case, I thank the sylphs who taught me the language," Mirandaline said lightly.

"So, on a slightly different note, are we there yet?" Ricardt asked. "I would like to get through the awkward silences we are going to have with the rear guard as quickly as possible."

"Shouldn't be more than a few days," Maresa assured him. "Maybe another day of caving to get to the vault."

"I can avoid them for three days," the cloud haired elf commented and started riding ahead. "As long as someone gets up early so I know where I'm supposed to be going."

"You'll be waiting at the cave entrance, pointy ears," the genasi said sternly. "And no more taking bandits on by yourself."

"Seconded," Teilla laughed. "Next time, take Donner with you so he can 'keep an eye on the dark elf' and be a good covering distraction for your opponents."

Ricardt chuckled into his hand as the archer back and took off. His mirth died away when he realized that the next few days were likely to be some of the most awkward he had gone through in a long while. Teilla would likely give voice to biting sarcasm to take the edge off her tension, he knew. Mirandaline would avoid all contact as she had said and was unlikely to be seen for the next few days. Ricardt mentally sighed and supposed that he would bury himself in duty and chores. He mentally steeled himself for scrupulously attending to the duty he had been hired for. There was no sense in leaving behind a reputation for slacking as well as a penchant for questionable company.

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Author's note:

I would like to state again that battles take me forever to write. I hope it was worth the wait and will say that there is more to come.


	5. Open but Not

Disclaimer: I am the creator of this idea and I got to it first! NOT! The characters that are not mine are the delusion of Richard Baker, not RAS and his angsty elf boy.

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Mirandaline waited patiently for the rest of the party to catch up with her. The half drow glanced back into the cave at the bottom of the canyon where she rested. Something chirped deep inside the cave and the elven ranger hoped feverently that it was only a bat. She had seen enough of trolls and leucrottas for one day and felt thoroughly tired of leading them away from the main party. She also missed having a canopy of leaves and branches overhead but did not find it nearly so irritating as the trolls. Besides, the High Moor had its own beauty to it. The woods-elf enjoyed the way the tall grass waved in the wind, particularly since if she watched the rhythm of the waving grass, she could spot things rustling the weeds out of sync to the stiff prevailing breeze.

Stones clattering down the ravine jerked the elven archer's attention from rhapsodic to alert and wary. Slowly, she gripped her long bow and found an arrow in her quiver by feel. A glint of metal in the sunlight below a black head of hair on the ravine told her that Ricardt was the first one down the rough path into the bone dry ravine. The paladin led her grey mare behind his bay gelding. Soon after, Mirandaline saw Maresa, Teilla, Araevin and Donnor picking their way down the canyon wall. The half drow relaxed a little and glanced back to the cavern to make sure nothing had come in or out of it. Upon seeing that nothing had changed and all was quiet, Mirandaline sighed. She was getting tiered of avoiding the big Morninglord and the odd sun elf mage, neither of whom had gotten accustomed to her since the unfortunent encounter with the road robbers.

_At least Maresa is still willing to talk to me_, the archer thought with amusement. On the other hand, the air genasi was the last one to try blaming someone for what their parents happened to be.

The small ranger stood up from her hiding place and waved to the approaching troupe. Ricardt waved back and walked towards her. "No surprise 'boo' this time?" he asked, grinning.

"Are you daft?" Mirandaline snorted. "Araevin would have a litter of kittens, Donnor would drop a foal and shortly thereafter I'd be dodging retributive lightning."

The paladin sighed, "too true, that." he nodded towards the cave. "Is that where we're heading?" At the half drow's nod, he continued, "Anything inside it so far?"

"Nothing that I've seen," she shrugged, "But I haven't ventured all that far back. I don't think it's very deep."

"What makes you say that?" asked Maresa as she walked up next to the dark haired paladin and pale haired scout. Teilla, Araevin and Donnor had also caught up and were listening closely.

"I threw a couple of rocks down the main passage and listened to the echoes," Mirandaline shrugged, "I'm only right about half the time though."

"So you felt justified to alert all the monsters in that cave that something edible is coming?" Donnor began, but Teilla cut him off before he could finish his tirade.

"You know that any chance of ambushing anything in there is moot," the bard commented sharply, "You alone in all that steel plate you're wearing make more noise than the rest of us combined. Besides, we're going to be using sunrods the entire time because the only ones who can do without are Maresa and Mir."

Donnor subsided to grumbling. Araevin, stony faced, went about casting a spell at the cave mouth.

As the mage went about his preliminary divinations, Mirandaline stepped closer to Teilla and Ricardt and said quietly, "That dead cave is watchful."

The red haired half elf asked, "What do you mean?"

"Caves are either active or inactive, depending on if water is running through them or not," Ricardt explained. "A 'dead' cave has no water running through it." Both elf-kin looked askance at the paladin. He shrugged, "What can I say? I come from a long line of rangers and druids."

"Anyway," the dark elf continued, "I got the distinct feeling that the cave or something in it is waiting for something. Very spooky." She looked back towards the sun elf at his divinations and and added quietly, "Like that one and his eyes."

Ricardt nodded and absently patted his horse. Donnor kept glancing up at the top of the dry ravine. Maresa did too. Mirandaline could not find in her to blame them. The High Moor was known to house numerous orcs, hobgoblins and trolls. "What's underground around here?" Maresa asked no one in particular.

"The Sharnlands," Teilla answered.

"What's there?" the genasi paid closer attention to the red haired half elf.

The bard shrugged in response, "Sharns, I suppose. It's really just a name on a map to me."

"It's definitely down there," Araevin called back to the rest of the party, "And it doesn't look like anything has decided to take up residence inside."

"Well then, let's get going!" Teilla sighed.

"After we sufficiently hide the horses," Ricardt stated firmly.

"And leave them with plenty of browse," Mirandaline piped up.

"What do you take me for, dark elf?" Araevin grumbled irritably.

The archer answered, "Distracted" and went to unsaddle and brush down the horses before the sun elf could say anything else.

Ricardt followed after and asked quietly, "How are you holding up?"

"All right, I suppose," Mirandaline sighed as she started to smooth out her grey mare's coat, "A little better now that the end is in sight. How about you? You and Teilla are the ones who have to deal with them more than I do."

The paladin chuckled and pulled a grooming brush from his saddlebag, "I really should jot down some of the spleen that Teilla's been spouting off at infrequent intervals. You haven't been around us long enough, but she's a born heckler."

"Then after this, we should go see a raree show somewhere so I can experience this phenomena first hand," the woods-elf grinned. She finished grooming her horse and moved on to Maresa's bay cob.

"Maybe take up our next job with someone who won't take an instant dislike of your hair color," Ricardt said mildly. "Know anyone off hand?"

"I've never been to the Promenade under Waterdeep," the archer considered the problem. "We could try there. It's a temple to Ellisstraee."

"There's also the Order of the Even handed in the City of Splendors," the paladin suggested, "Also, we don't know what's in Secomber or Silverymoon."

"We can deal with that after this though," Mirandaline noted.

The ranger and the paladin finished unsaddling and grooming the horses and gave them their feed bags of oats, with the extra treat of a bit of clover Mirandaline had found in the windblown grassland. When each horse happily munched on some food, she and Ricardt returned to the rest of the group.

Araevin was talking quietly with Donnor as Maresa and Teilla frowned at them. Mirandaline got the feeling that she was not going to like the subject under discussion. "What's the consensus?" Ricardt asked as they walked up.

"I'll cast a spell to conceal the horses, you and Donnor while the drow leads the rest of us to our destination," the sun elf mage stated. The big Lathanderite nodded. The genasi and half elf bard glared at them.

Ricardt looked as if he wanted to say something thoroughly impolite. Mirandaline beat him to it, "No. I cannot scout a tunnel if I do not know what I am looking for and what defenses I may encounter. Furthermore I not know where exactly this 'destination' is."

Donnor glowered at her, face as dark as a thunderstorm about to break. Araevin narrowed his opaline eyes at her. Teilla spoke up, "You know it's a reasonable question. Besides, why do you want two people guarding the critters?"

"We'll want at least one of the sword skilled with us if we run into anything, Araevin," Maresa noted mildly.

"Fine. Ricardt, you're coming with us," the elven mage said shortly, then grimaced and walked over to the horses with Donnor to cast an illusion over them.

Mirandaline tapped Maresa's shoulder diffidently. "I still don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for," the woods-elf reminded.

Ricardt looked over at the wizard and observed, "I think if we ask Araevin again he's going to get even more cranky."

The genasi sighed, "You all are persistent, aren't you?"

"With regards to things that may affect survival, yes" Mirandaline commented.

"With regards to things of mere trivia, like Araevin's eyes and how they got that way, no" Teilla quipped. "Although I would dearly love to hear that tale."

"Anyway, back to what I'm supposed to be watching for?" the ranger reminded again.

"A door in the stone," Maresa said, "With dragons and elves on it."

"Not a portal?" the ranger asked. "An actual door of some kind?"

The pale air genasi nodded and glanced back towards Araevin as he walked up towards them. "Just a very secure door," he said resignedly.

"Any known wards or suspicions of wards and traps that I should be aware of?" the dark woods-elf asked in her best professionally neutral voice.

"No," the sun elf shook his head, "Earlier attempts to open this particular door didn't say anything about traps."

"Anything else?" Maresa asked. Mirandaline and Teilla shook their heads.

"I'll take front guard and Maresa takes rear?" Ricardt suggested. He met no opposition and Mirandaline led the way into the caves.

--)--------

A few hours later, Mirandaline crouched in a lightless tunnel and studied the stirred dust of the cave floor. _The nice thing about tracking in caves_, she thought, _is that tracks stay for a very long time_.

The spot of ground she looked at currently sported the light prints of elves overshadowed by larger and heavier steps left by humans and human-kin. Large goblinoids did not appear to venture this far in the ravine cave. The dark woods-elf had stopped seeing those tracks about half a mile earlier. She looked down the passageway, deeper into the hillside. The tunnel gently curved around and down out of sight. It also looked fairly regular and made rather than naturally created by wind or water. The sense of being watched also persisted the more strongly the deeper into the cave complex she got. Araevin kept saying that no one watched them magically, but the feeling seemed quite content to ignore the mage's assurances.

The slight ranger sighed softly in resignation and listened to the sounds of the tunnel. She heard nothing but the muted murmur of her companions' voices behind her and absolutely nothing from up ahead. She turned back to rejoin Maresa, Teilla, Ricardt and Araevin.

The rest of the group rested in a chamber with a few sweeping shelves carved out of the cave walls and a ceiling high enough for Araevin and Ricardt to stand up straight. The sun elf mage paced restlessly. The paladin held a lit sunrod that illuminated the whole of the chamber. He looked in her direction and did not see her immediately. Sighing again at the amount of dust her long coat must have acquired to blend in so well to the cave walls, Mirandaline stepped into the sunrod's radiance and walked over to Ricardt. When he caught sight of her, he nudged Teilla, who sat nearby, and waited for the scout. "The tunnels change up ahead," the half drow told him, loud enough for everyone to hear, "From naturally shaped to artificial, I think."

"Are you sure?" Maresa asked from her seat on the chamber's rock shelf.

Mirandaline shrugged, "I'm not an expert, but it certainly appears to change up ahead. Also, no goblinoid tracks go into this tunnel, not even a little bit."

Maresa turned to Araevin, who stopped pacing, and started talking with him about how they should proceed. Ricardt wandered over to join their conversation. Mirandaline, turned to Teilla and asked, "What happened while I was out?"

"Araevin's been reviewing spells and trying to wear a track into the ground, Maresa's worried about traps and Ricardt's been doing his level best to keep everything civil towards us," The bard gave a slight smile, "I think the wizard's afraid I'm going to sing of this 'adventure' up and down the Sword Coast. As if anything worthy of a limerick has happened yet."

"If he opens this door, there is the chance that some big nasty relic will pop out," Mirandaline said lightly.

"One can only hope," Teilla sighed, "Next time I'm scouting the job offers and Ricardt can take you sightseeing."

The woods-elf smothered a giggle, "That would end up being a tour of all the major temples in the area and you know it."

"Of course I know that," the red haired half elf laughed, "I found out the hard way." Teilla looked past Mirandaline's shoulder and said, "I think we have news."

The archer glanced back and saw Maresa and Ricardt coming towards them while Araevin went and stowed a few books back into his pack. Neither the genasi or the paladin looked particularly happy. "The next stretch of scouting you'll be taking Araevin with you," Maresa said. "The rest of us will be following close behind."

"My mother told me there would be days like this," the ranger sighed in resignation. "If we're all ready, I'd like to get going now."

"I'm sorry," Ricardt said, "But soonest started, soonest ended."

"The end is in sight anyway," Araevin said brusquely as he walked up to join them. "Lead the way."

Mirandaline sighed again and started down the tunnel she had scouted earlier. Araevin wove his hands through the air while muttering something under his breath, then jogged to catch up with her. "You are supposed to wait for me," he huffed.

The archer shrugged and kept walking. The unshakable feeling of being watched returned to her as soon as the make of the tunnel changed. She glanced at the sun elf mage to see if he noticed anything. He appeared to be focused on looking for something just around the bend. She tried to push the feeling to the back of her mind and keep an eye out for trouble. Ricardt and Teilla clattered behind with Maresa quietly bringing up the rear.

The tunnel kept curving around. They had yet to encounter anything branching off this main corridor. Mirandaline looked backwards to check on the rear group and nearly collided into Araevin's back.

She looked around the tall mage's back to see what the hold up was and saw the spectral image of a beautiful lady sun elf with golden skin, coppery hair and luminous green eyes clad in a simple dress of pale green. Somewhere above the ranger's head, Araevin gasped, "Ilsevele!"

Mirandaline could hear the human-kin coming up be hind them and stopping as well. She took a quick mental inventory of her psionic reserves and watched the translucent elf. The ghostly image looked squarely at Araevin and said in melodic Elven, "Tell me a lie that is not a lie."

"You know, I could have sworn that you said that there were no wards except on the door itself," the dark elven archer said softly in Elven.

"Be quiet, while I think over the riddle," Araevin grumbled at her. Mirandaline settled herself to the side of the tunnel and waited for the mage to come up with an answer.

Araevin stuttered his way through a couple of starts to answers. The apparition cocked her head to the side and asked, "Do you know one or not, High Mage Teshurr?"

"Give me more time?" the mage asked.

"No. You had your chance," the translucent elf shook her head at the wizard, then turned to Mirandaline, "Now it is someone else's."

The woods- elf felt something gently brush at her mind and watched in amazement as the apparition changed from beautiful sun elf noble to a shorter, somewhat scruffy drow male with dark red eyes and a bright, happy grin. _I almost never see dark elves smile like that_, Mirandaline thought, bewildered.

"Now, can you tell me a lie that is not a lie?" the spirit asked in a rougher voice.

"I..." the archer started, then stopped and considered the riddle. _There had to be a double meaning in there somewhere_, she realized and said, "I do not know you."

The specter smiled and changed form again, this time to the shape of a petite dark elf female with long silvery hair and a gown of pale blue. "Sad, but true. Very good, child," she said in slightly accented Elven, before she faded away into nothingness.

"I guess now I know where that feeling of being watched was coming from," Mirandaline switched to Trade Common and turned to Maresa, Teilla and Ricardt. "Forwards?"

"How come your answer worked?" the genasi asked.

The dark woods-elf shrugged, "She pulled that image out of my head. I must have seen him somewhere before now even if I can't remember any details, or him, at all."

"So why couldn't you figure it out?" Teilla asked as she turned towards Araevin. "And did I have wax in my pointy ears or did the ghost call you a 'High Mage'?"

"It wasn't wax Teilla, she called him 'High Mage Teshurr,'" Ricardt reassured the bard. "Now can we find this door and get out of each other's hair?"

"Seconded," Mirandaline agreed. "This place is giving me chills."

"But..." Teilla clearly wanted to pursue the subject further, but the paladin shushed her.

The archer, with her sharp ears, could hear Ricardt murmuring, "We can find out later when he gets through the door and is presumably in a better mood."

Teilla sighed heavily and Mirandaline stifled a grin at the bard's irrepressible curiosity. No doubt Teilla would try to pry Araevin's story out of him on the way back. _Most likely she'll __succeed__ too_, the elven ranger thought wryly.

They continued through the tunnel and finally came upon the door that they sought. It blocked the end of the tunnel and appeared as a silver vein in the rock with graceful archaic elven script written along the interior border. Mirandaline, in spite of being a native Elven speaker, could not make out more that a word or two. The main center part of the door bore very detailed silver images of four dragons interspersed with seven elves with hands outstretched towards one another in some sort of rite. All the figures were unique to each other but all of them had a stylized outline around them that mingled in the center of their circle to create a starburst. The archer supposed that they were ones who had locked the door away.

The half drow turned and found Teilla looking over her shoulder at the sealed door. "You know, one of those pictures looks like the spirit we just ran into," The bard said as she studied the patterns.

"One of the ones near the top of the circle?" Mirandaline asked.

"Not the top center elf, but the one on the top right," Teilla pointed to the figure, "The cut of the dress is nearly the same."

The woods-elf nodded and turned to see what everyone else was doing. Araevin pulled a book out of his travel bag and started flipping through it. Maresa settled her pack near the mage and took up a lookout position at the party's rear. Ricardt put his backpack down across from the air genasi and came over to look at the silver outlines with the archer and the bard. "Those two dragons, the ones with the whiskers, are gold dragons," he said as he pointed them out, "That one's a silver dragon by the crest but I don't know what that one is."

"It could be a gem dragon of some kind," Mirandaline speculated, "Some of those are known to be friendly to things smaller than themselves."

Behind them, Araevin loudly cleared his throat. The paladin, bard and ranger turned to look at the sun elf. "Do you mind?" the mage harrumphed.

Teilla looked as if she wanted to say something sarcastic, but stayed quiet as they moved away from the door to drop packs and sit where Maresa looked on. Araevin started casting something long and complicated sounding at the door.

After a little while, Mirandaline got bored of watching the sun elf wizard cast a spell, mutter something about a "very well fortified mythal" and then try casting again. Teilla suddenly asked, "Has anyone ever tried knocking?"

Araevin turned and blinked owlishly at the red haired half elf, then frowned as the bard walked up to the stone door and firmly rapped on it three times. Teilla turned back to the party and shrugged, "What? It's always thrice in tales."

Mirandaline heard Ricardt try valiantly to keep his snickering to a minimum. She was having a hard time to hold back gales of laughter herself. Maresa laughed quietly at Araevin's discomfited expression. The archer sighed and walked over to where the bard stood by the door. "So what's behind the door?" Teilla asked.

"Supposedly a library," the sun elf glared at her. "No one's ever been on the other side."

"This is going to take a while, isn't it?" the bard groaned.

"We should probably send someone to inform Morninglord Kerth of the delay," Mirandaline said softly and leaned against the door.

At least, the dark woods-elf intended to lean against the stone. She met nothing when she expected something solid, ended up off balance and fell to land painfully on her rear. The archer looked back towards the shocked mage and startled bard and saw them as if they were underwater. The sense of being watched returned threefold and the ranger wished she had her bow with her instead of on the other side of the door. She picked herself up and tried to go back through the doorway, but it felt as solid as quartz crystal.

Teilla came closer to the door and tried to go through it, but encountered it as if it were still solid rock to her. Araevin cast some sort of spell, but as far as Mirandaline could see, nothing happened. Nervous and very worried, the archer psionically quested for the other side of the door, hoping to "feel" it well enough to try a short teleport or at least link minds with Teilla or Ricardt. She could not "find" the other side as if there was more distance separating them than it appeared.

An idea occurred to the woods-elf. Moving her hands slowly so Teilla could follow more easily, Mirandaline signaled in drow hand cant, "I'm all right. Going to look around." She signed the same message two more times until the half elf bard nodded.

The room beyond the door was not what the ranger had been led to expect. Instead of the shelves upon shelves of books, that one normally associated with a library, Mirandaline stood in what looked like a courtyard of stone and crystal sculpture within carefully raked green sand pits with walkways of blue and aquamarine tile weaving around them. The overall effect reminded her of a map. A stairway at the far end of the courtyard led to a set of double doors that looked like they were part of a tower of thundercloud grey and white stone. The lower tier of the tower had been carved to resemble snow capped mountains.

Belatedly, Mirandaline realized that there had to be light coming from somewhere. She could see in color, rather than the black and white vision she had when there was no light at all. The archer looked up and saw a sea of little twinkling pinpricks of light. The chamber's ceiling had been enchanted to resemble a clear night sky.

"There is nothing here that will hurt you, child," a soft female voice spoke elven behind the half drow.

Taking a startled breath, Mirandaline spun around to find herself face to face with the dark elf apparition from the tunnel outside. The elf in blue seemed more substantial than before as she took a step away from the wary ranger. "You are safe here, little one," the strange elf repeated.

"What if I want to go back?" Mirandaline asked.

"The way out is not the same as the way in for anyone here," the spirit told her, "But do not worry, youngling, if you wait a moment..."

"An aspirant, Lilleen?" a new voice called from the direction of the tower.

Bewildered, the archer looked over at the newcomer at the top of the stairs. A male sylvan elf wearing a simple sleeved tunic, trousers and plain boots regarded the scene in the courtyard and started walking towards Mirandaline and the ghostly elf. "What is your name, child?" he asked in a friendly voice.

The ranger got control of her surprise enough to answer, "Mirandaline Sparrowhawk of Whizban. Please, can you tell me why my companions can't cross into this place?"

"The entry requirements on our front door are very specific," The wood elf explained. "Unfortunately they have been quite outdated for a very long time." He sketched an informal bow and said, "I am Kaeldin and this is Lilleen."

"Hello," Mirandaline said uncertainly, "So I can't get out via the front door and my friends can't get in so we can finally leave Maresa, Araevin and Donnor to their separate paths."

"Well, they could all go their different ways, but the scion of Vyshaan is not setting foot here," Lilleen stated firmly.

"All right then," the ranger took a deep breath and blew it out, "How do I get out of here?"

Kaeldin and Lilleen looked at each other. Mirandaline could almost hear their private debate. Finally Kaeldin said, "We do not know yet. It has been different for each student to come through here."

"How long did it take the others you spoke of to leave?" Mirandaline looked between the solid sylvan elf and translucent dark elf.

"That varies too," Lilleen shook her slivery pale hair.

"If it's all right with you two, I think I would like to update my friends to what's happening," the archer said weakly.

"Go ahead," Kaeldin shooed her towards the outer door. "I take it you have some means of signaling them?"

The dark woods-elf nodded silently and went to inform Teilla, Ricardt, Maresa and Araevin of the current situation. Mirandaline feverently hoped Teilla's command of drow sign language was up to the task of translating.

--)--------

Author's note: Actually, right now I'm really tired and can't really think of anything to say at the moment, except to remind you, gentle reader, that leaving a comment behind is good karma.


	6. A Recounting

Disclaimer: Umm... I don't know if I need one for this chapter. I mean only two canon characters are mentioned (they are Richard Baker's) and all the rest are mine. Most of the rest was inspired by a source book. And I beat Lisa Smedman to this particular excavation (not that I can do anything about her writing something different). So there!

--)--------

Kaeldin watched the young elf walk quickly towards the outer portal, then turned to look at his fellow guardian to ask, "Lilleen, how long has it been since someone wandered in here?"

The ghostly dark elf in blue shook her head, "Trust me, you do not want to know. Far too long in my opinion."

The sylvan elf mage nodded and saw Mirandaline start to move her hands through some kind of sign language at a half-human sun elf with ruddy hair in a white shirt and dark green trousers. After a little while, the half blood nodded, found a quill and a little copybook from somewhere in her pack, scribble something on it and hold it up to the magical barrier. The dark-wood elf started flashing hand signs again. Curious about the rest of the girl's troupe, Kaeldin wandered nearer to get a better look at them but not seem to intrude on the young elf's conversation.

A man of middling height and short dark hair, wearing chain mail and a blue and white surcoat with a scale symbol on it watched the stuck Mirandaline with concern written plainly over his face. The red haired half human frowned in concentration at the young elf and somehow managed to write on her papers without looking at what she scribed. A woman garbed all in bright scarlet with pale, almost blue skin and white hair that did not stay still kept looking over the writer's shoulder.

The las person on the other side of the portal looked singularly thwarted, an expression that amused Kaeldin to no end. The wood elf mage could clearly see that the golden sun elf on the other side of Kraanfhoar's door had undergone his own _telmiirkara neshyrr_. The eyes that randomly and constantly shifted hues were something of a giveaway. Kaeldin was quite familiar with the phenomena himself, although with his own eyes, it took a good deal longer. He chuckled softly and thought, _What kind of idiot would think that a remnant of a place obliterated by sun elves would not have wards against entry by our attackers?_

Mirandaline turned to him and asked, "Is there any way to find out how long it will take for me to get out of here?"

"There is, but you need to know that the passing of time in this place can be a bit strange," Kaeldin shrugged, "When you get out, you are likely to be in the time that you need to be in, not necessarily the one you want to be in."

"Well... Is there any way to find out so that if it's a really long time, my friends can go and do something else without waiting for me?" The younger elf pressed, "And would it be possible for me to send messages to them if that is the case?"

"It will not take all that long to figure out more or less when you will walk in Faerûn again," Lilleen gently assured her, "As for your second question..."

"It has not come up," Kaeldin shrugged, "The others came alone and did not really have family on the other side. Particularly the first three. I am sure that we can think of a way for you to write to your friends though."

"We will be better able to discuss this inside," Lilleen added, "As well as come up with a rough plan on how to get you out. This place is meant to be a way station for a student, not a prison."

"Although sometimes it feels like one," The sylvan elf mage muttered under his breath. Mirandaline glanced at him and frowned. _Sharp little girl_, he thought then shoved his weariness to the back of his mind. In a louder voice, he continued, "We will do a couple of preliminary divinations, see what we need to do to get you out of here and come back so you can tell your friends what is going on."

"Let me tell Teilla then," Mirandaline gestured to the half human with pen and paper in hand and trotted over to the outer portal. A few quick hand signs later and the young elf came back looking more in control of herself and ready to go.

"Lilleen? Will you keep an eye on the people at the doorstep?" Kaeldin asked.

The dark elven mage smirked, "Of course. The Vyshaanti elf will probably try something."

"Play nice," The sylvan elf warned and started through the stone garden towards the double doors of the tower proper, Mirandaline close behind.

Kraanfhoar's cool, silent hallways were carved to resemble a forest of ash and birch trees and lit to remind the person within of dusk on a summer's day. Kaeldin expected to hear some sound of surprise and glanced back at the young elf when he did not hear it. She did appear to be amazed and looked at everything from ceiling to walls to floor, all without saying a word or making any noise at all.

He led the way to a study and lounge that he customarily used to receive guests. "We're on another plane, aren't we?" Mirandaline's soft voice broke the quiet.

Kaeldin nodded, "Very perceptive of you to figure that out without spells. Lilleen told me that she did not think you were an arcanist or spellcaster of any sort."

The young elf shook her head and kept looking around. The sylvan elf high mage glanced over at her again, this time looking for any glimmers of magic about the girl. He saw a few defensive enchantments on her garments, as well as some muffling and camouflaging charms on her coat and boots. Kaeldin fine tuned his magesight to look for auras of magic other than arcane, a trick he had picked up centuries ago. Divinely based wards hung on the girl's belt and neck. He could barely see the dim aura around the young elf's head and on something at her wrist. "A psion?" he asked curiously and was rewarded with a startled look in his direction. "I gather from your expression, young lady, that you are not found out so often," Kaeldin arched an eyebrow at her and kept walking.

Mirandaline grumbled, "Not so quickly."

Kaeldin chuckled a little and turned into a short side hallway. He opened the fourth door on the left and held it open for Mirandaline. "Your exit review awaits," he said mildly and gestured inside.

She stepped into the study with a wary look at Kaeldin, then turned and looked about the room with its simple comfy couches, sparse oaken desk in the corner and dusty bookshelves on all available wall space. "Your office?" she asked, looking back at him.

"No, this is one of the turnstiles," Kaeldin shook his head and carefully manipulated the door knob to work the ancient device, "One of the defensive measures we took when we hid the tower. You might want to survey the room..."

A startled gasp, followed by a slight whoosh of displaced air and a strong scent of damp green ferns interrupted Kaeldin as the rest of his circle of high mages appeared seated about the room and Mirandaline disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"Kaeldin, you idiot,"Artemio his head with his palm and groaned, "You did not warn the girl, did you?"

"I suppose we should find her before she wanders too far," Corythin sighed, running a dark brown hand through his wheat pale hair. "Damned if I thought it would take this long though."

"How long has it been since we moved the tower, really?" Kaeldin asked. He usually did.

"Millenea," Nefelis, Artemio and Psittia chorused their usual answer.

"Well, I do not know about the rest of you, but I am going to go see if I can find the girl," Nefelis stated, tossed her black braid over her shoulder and stood up.

"I will go with you," Artemio said resignedly and heaved himself out of his chair. The two wood elven high mages walked out of the room to look for the wayward Mirandaline.

Kaeldin turned to regard the elves left in the room. Sophon seemed calmly resigned to whatever challenges the new student brought with her. The dark elven high mage busied himself with making a pot of tea fragrant with herbs. Psittia got up and paced the floor. The warmage, never one to enjoy quiet contemplation, asked the room, "Who will give me odds that the new student of ours will figure out that she is in Arvandor?"

"What are we betting?" Sophon replied as he pulled eight mismatched teacups from a drawer in the desk. The diviner continued, "Now I can give you three to one odds that the young lady figures it out."

"Why those odds?" Kaeldin asked curiously.

"Because I think the girl bolted to your rock garden and I think that Lilleen will find her first," Sophon said simply, "You know as well as I do that your meditation garden looks different here and our lore mistress becomes solid like the rest of us."

Psittia pouted, "You are no fun at all, Sophon."

"Does that mean you are backing out?" the dark elven wizard in pale grey shirt and trousers asked the sylvan elf battlemage in green robes.

"Not at all," Psittia sat down and idly twined coppery fingers through her straight red hair. "I say she will not figure it out until we tell her. The loser does the dishes."

"You are on," Sophon smirked and turned back to check on his steeping teapot.

Kaeldin chuckled softly at their byplay. He could count on one hand the number of times the dark elven diviner had lost a bet on anything. "You look like you could use a vacation," Corythin's resonant voice quietly broke into the sylvan elf's thoughts. He turned to look at the former grand mage, who continued gently, "Timiri is worried about you, you know. She has asked us more than a few times to find a way to get you off the hook or otherwise give you a break. I hope you two have been staying in touch?"

"As far as time goes here, I write to her every day," Kaeldin nodded. "Just little things, mostly. Interesting books I found in the library, truly bad love poems about her hair and eyes. We have been exchanging the most atrocious limericks of late. I have been trying to keep myself occupied here as well, with my garden and crystal sculptures. Timiri suggested that I acquire a hobby or four to help pass the time."

"As long as it keeps your morale up," Corythin assured him, "Besides, I am not the one reading those poems of yours, so I could care less if your jokes are so bad even the coures groan at them."

"I did not know that was even possible," Kaeldin laughed.

"Oh, it is possible," Psittia called, "Just be ready to get kicked in the shins if they hear you reciting."

Kaeldin felt more at ease than he had in a very long while, but said, "I hope this does not last much longer."

"I do not think that you will have much longer to wait," Corythin said reassuringly, "There has been a recent influx of newly departed who tell tales of an elven Return to Faerûn."

"This could certainly be the right time," Sophon mused aloud as Nefelis, Artemio, Lilleen and Mirandaline all trooped into the study. The young elf looked distinctly shaken and subdued. The corporeal lore mistress had a comforting arm about the girl's shoulders as she steered the young psion to a well cushioned chair and sat Mirandaline down. Sophon stepped in and deposited a aromatic steaming cup of tea in the dark-wood elf's hands. "It is crushed rosehips, lemongrass, snow mint, small daisy and a touch of honey," the diviner told her gently. "You will feel better after you drink it down. Would anyone else care for a cup?"

All of the mage circle responded in the affirmative and Sophon started passing out full teacups. As he did so, Corythin asked, "Child, do you know where you are?"

Mirandaline glanced in Lilleen's direction before answering, "The outer planes for certain. Arvandor?"

"Psittia, you are doing the clean up," Sophon stated blandly as the warmage sighed.

"Anyway," the former Grand Mage looked sternly at the smug diviner and resigned battle mage before continuing, "From what I gather, you wish to get back to the prime material plane and your friends as soon as possible. Put simply, to return to Faerûn you must assist in the casting of any spell of high magic."

Mirandaline gave a low whistle and said in a dazed voice, "That's a tall order. What happens if it turns out that I have no aptitude for arcane magic? And what is this place anyway?" She gestured to the room in general with her teacup.

"To answer your first question, you simply are barred from going back to the prime material plane," Kaeldin said gently. "However, we will not hold you here against your wishes and you will be free to go to any other planes all you like. Of the six previous students we have tried to instruct since we hid Kraanfhoar, two were unable to learn to cast spells of high arcana. One set up shop in Sigil and the other emigrated to the Gates of the Moon."

"To start on your second question, how familiar are you with elven history?" Corythin asked, "Specifically the Crown Wars."

Mirandaline shrugged, "I know that dark elves became drow during one of them and that one of the kingdoms involved with one or the other of them was called Illefarn. Besides that, not much."

Lilleen groaned and shook her head, "May the Seladrine preserve us, how educational standards have fallen!"

"I'm a bad example to measure elven schooling by," Mirandaline said quietly, "I got most of my schooling from humans."

The dark elven lore mistress blinked in surprise and Corythin asked, "May I continue?"

After he met no dissent, he continued, "Well, you probably already know that what became known as the Crown Wars were a series of civil wars between the elf races. The two nations of interest to us are Miyeritar and Aryvandaar.

"Miyeritar was made up of dark elven and wood elven clans. There was enough intermarrying between the two races so it was not all that uncommon back then to have a dark elf and a wood elf for parents, like myself and you apparently, as that was one of the keys to passing our wards on the front gate. All of us gathered here are, or were, Miyeritari elves.

"Aryvandaar was also known as the Vyshaan Empire after the name of the ruling house of sun elves there. They started a territorial dispute with Miyeritar that escalated into the first of the Crown Wars. I will spare you a blow by blow description of the battles." Corythin paused to sip at his tea, then continued, "We lost. Miyeritar was forcibly annexed and occupied by Aryvandaar."

"Needless to say, us Miyeritari were not exactly thrilled with the prospect," Lilleen added. "The Vyshaan were and still are mostly arrogant bastards as far as I am concerned."

"We resisted," Corythin said. "Those of us unwilling to resort to open war again kept pressuring the sun elves to loosen their hold on us. They responded by cracking down harder on any and all Miyeritari protests, regardless of if they were peaceful or not."

"Idiots," Psittia growled. "They just drove more recruits to the resistance cells."

"Anyway, the Vyshaanti kept having to put down revolts in Miyeritar," Kaeldin quietly picked up the tale. "We at Kraanfhoar, and I mean that literally since most of us were involved to an extent, we hid our most powerful and unique spells from any sun elf to enter the tower. They were not happy about the restricted access to our most powerful magic and our stubbornness to adhere to the policy. Most of us were subjected to surprise armed searches of our offices and notes."

"We were very careful that all of the wards and hiding spots of our high arcana were very secure and as tight as could make them," Artemio massaged his temples as he spoke.

"And then our fellow high mages started dying," Nefelis said in a small voice. Her hands trembled slightly in her lap as she spoke, "One by one Vyshaanti assassins killed them until only we remained of Kraanfhoar's circle of high arcanists."

Kaeldin watched Mirandaline silently take the history lesson in with wide green eyes before turning his attention to Sophon as the diviner grimly continued the events, "I was one of the mages they tried to kill off. They did not succeed. I laid low for a few days and cast a few divinations to try to discover the underlying reason for the attempt on my life. What I saw was... horrifying beyond belief."

"Sophon told us that the Vyshaan planned a storm of death magics to sweep the whole of Miyeritar," Psittia said, her voice hard. "A weaving of malevolent high arcana designed to kill everything it touched or drifted to. We spread the word that anyone who valued their life should get out before the storm hit. We," the wood elf gestured to the wizards in the room, "Thought that the Vyshaan wanted all or most of us dead so that we could not turn back the magic they sent so they could come in and hunt for our hidden high arcane lore without interference."

"We had no interest in abandoning our home only to let everyone suffer by having our own magic turned against us later," Corythin explained. "So we created a seal, a very small sturdy mythal, to hide and protect the whole of Kraanfhoar's mage tower."

"Like a limpet," Mirandaline piped up. All the mages stared at the young psion. She looked charigned as she explained, "It's a small sea snail that lives where the waves pound the shoreline hard. You can't pry them off their rocks."

"Just so," Corythin gently cleared his throat and continued, "We determined what we needed our 'shell' to do." He ticked the points off his fingers as he said each one, "It needed to have its own pocket plane to keep Vyshaan mages from teleporting in easily if they had been here before or found a good description of one of our classrooms or meeting halls here. We needed to be able to let our own people in so they could get to our magic and lore, learn it and then take it back outside. It needed to abut and intersect with Arvandor because we knew that most of us would lose our lives in the sealing, but we wanted to have the most possible teachers to best suit possible students. And we needed someone to survive so that if any Vyshaan high mages tried to break or alter our mythal, they could block it."

"No one was expecting it to take this long for the one survivor to get released from his obligations here," Kaeldin commented with dry humor.

"Anyway, we actually had a few students in the first few years after we hid this place," Nefelis shook her head and sighed. 'Since children of mixed elven races were much more common back then we thought that it would be a relatively short wait to fill all the requirements to get the defensive seal down. We did not foresee that a scant five hundred years later, the ritual used to punish the Ilythiiri dark elves would affect all dark elves everywhere, regardless of if they had anything to do with Ilythiir's war atrocities or not."

"You probably know how divisive that mistake turned out better than any of us," Sophon said gently then continued in a brisk voice, "The first three were actually able to learn our way of high magic but were not able to release our guardians from their duties. Of the three who have stumbled into this place since the Descent, only one managed to learn to cast the high arcana. Are you done with your tea, youngling?"

Mirandaline nodded and handed her cup to the dark elven diviner. Sophon took it, conjured up a saucer, turned the cup over on the small plate and continued in a reassuring tone, "If it is any consolation, I think that it is likely that you will be let loose one way or the other before many years before many years pass in Faerûn."

"Next year is known as the Year of Risen Elf-kin by more current historians," Lilleen noted hopefully.

"Lilleen and Kaeldin were the ones who were left behind to guard the door," Mirandaline looked at the lore mistress and altered sylvan elf, "Weren't you?"

"Lilleen volunteered to bind herself as a spirit to serve as a messenger and scout to the material plane," Kaeldin explained. "I underwent a... ritual to ensure that I would live long enough to tutor any student who came through the door and that I could wield high magic without the benefit of a circle in the likely event that someone would try to manipulate the mythal wards we had set."

The younger elf nodded, then looked closely at him and frowned. "Weren't your eyes brown when we first walked in here? They're bright blue now."

"A side effect of the _telmiirkara neshyrr_, I am sorry to say," Kaeldin sighed resignedly. Every student so far had mentioned his color changing eyes. He supposed it was a sign that they paid attention to things around them. "I would have thought you would be used to such phenomena, given your companions."

"You mean Araevin," Mirandaline said. "I was working more on avoiding him than trying to figure out what he'd done to himself." She blinked then asked, "Do you mean he's been through a _telmiirkara neshyrr_?"

Corythin nodded sadly, "The rite does many things to the person who undergoes it."

"The basic principle is that one sheds much of one's essence and replaces it with something else that can handle untrammeled high arcana, which is normally very dangerous for a single mage to wield alone," Lilleen said in her best instructor's voice. "I suspect that Araevin Teshurr gave his chunk of soul up to a bralani or ghaele and probably used the version that did not stipulate the possible return of the lost essence."

"I do not believe that the Vyshaanti ever knew of our modified version of the spell," Nefelis mused aloud, "But I am fairly certain that the original rite concocted in Keltormir fell into Aryvandaar's hands and it might have survived after all this time."

"But really, none of this has any real bearing on you, little one," Kaeldin assured the slight psion kindly. "It is more my problem than yours."

"So you all think I'll be let out next year or the year after?" Mirandaline asked, returning to her main concern. Kaeldin approved of the girl's ability to focus.

"It seems likely that that will be how much time elapses in Faerûn," Sophon nodded. "How long it will seem to you is another matter entirely."

"That's all right," Mirandaline said resignedly, "At least my friends and family will still remember what I look like when I get out. Speaking of my friends, can I them know what's going on and your estimate on how long it'll be before I'm turned loose?"

"Certainly," Lilleen assured the younger elf. "I will show you how to work the turnstile doors as well." The lore mistress got up, smoothed out her soft blue robes and led Mirandaline quietly out of the study.

After the door clicked shut behind them, Kaeldin turned to Sophon and asked, "So, have you figured out which of us would be best suited to teach the new student?"

"Give me a moment," the dark elven diviner replied as he picked up Mirandaline's discarded teacup, righted it and began to examine its contents.

"May the Seladrine preserve us," Artemio oathed, "We have never had one that young before. If the girl has seen a full century yet, I will eat my teacup without sauce!"

"The last one was not much older when he started," Nefelis pointed out, "Perhaps half a century the elder, but no more."

"Alakaun was unable to learn to cast as part of a circle," Artemio countered.

Nefelis shifted in her seat and grumbled something unintelligible. Kaeldin sighed softly. Clearly, they wanted to get back to their afterlife. Psittia got up to start doing the dishes. Sophon continued to study Mirandaline's teacup. Corythin looked askance at the intent diviner and teased, "Have you found the bottom of young Mirandaline's cup yet?"

Reading tealeaves is easier than actual spells and more accurate, for me at least, when the subject is shielding subconsciously," Sophon said absently, "Rather like the first two students, actually."

"Hopefully minus the crush that Waendri had on you," Psittia gave a snort of laughter.

"Not this time, thank you," Sophon turned the cup around and continued, "It looks like myself, Corythin, Lilleen and Kaeldin will have the best chance of teaching the little one high arcana. Incidentally, according to her tea leaves, it would be a good idea to make sure her fighting skills are in good shape."

"Well of those of us here, I suppose I would be the best one to teach weapons work," Psittia mused aloud.

"I am still not convinced she will be able to invoke high magic," Kaeldin worried, "She is a psionicist of some sort though."

"I think we all figured that out when she teleported out of here without so much as a finger wiggle or trigger word," Corythin pointed out dryly. "Also the forest scent still lingering on the air is something of a giveaway. Most arcane or divine spellcasters do not leave such traces."

"Well, I suppose I will leave you all to your student," Nefelis sighed and stood up to leave.

Kaeldin rose as well and gave his fellow high mage a hug and said warmly, "Give Timiri my love and my best wishes to your boys."

"As if Timiri would let me get by her without shaking something out of me," She laughed. "Sweet water and light laughter."

"And to you," Kaeldin replied and turned to Artemio, "Good to see you again."

"Clearly you are in need of more visits," The honey haired wood elf grinned and thumped Kaeldin amiably on the back. "Corellon guide all of your paths."

"Thank you," Kaeldin returned. "Will you keep us updated on this supposed Return?"

"You ask and I give," Artemio laughed as he left.

"So you all are going to try to teach a psion to work high magic," Psittia said as she finished drying the last teacup. "Do any of you know if that is even possible without starting from the basics?"

"I do not," Corythin answered. "I suppose if we have to teach her from the beginning, there are ways to make that go by quicker. There is also the potential that she might not need to learn to cast high arcana at all, just how to manipulate it."

"I suppose we will just have to wait and see how this unfolds," Kaeldin smiled slightly. "Unless Sophon can read any more from Mirandaline's cup."

"I could read plenty more," Sophon snorted as he handed the teacup to Psittia. "But that was the only part that should concern us. The rest is for her to discover on her own. By the way who do you want to run letters from Mirandaline to her friends outside?"

"I was thinking one of the bralani would probably do," Corythin shrugged, "If not, the coures would probably be more than willing. In the meantime, we have research to do regarding arcane and psionic transparencies as well as a new student to settle in."

Kaeldin nodded and went to make sure that the living spaces were in order and to start framing a long letter to Timiri. She liked being kept up to date about the students.

--)--------

Author's Note: First of all, congratulations to you, brave reader, for making it this far! I'm sorry that this chapter is so incredibly long, but there really wasn't any way for the story to make sense without a long explanation and history lesson. I think the next few chapters will be somewhat shorter, but I can never tell until I'm done with them. Please review and give me feedback. I can't make this any better without it.


	7. A Parting of Ways

Disclaimer: I can't hear canon! La la la! I can't hear canon! La la la! I can't hear canon! La la la!

--)--------

Teilla sat in front of the portal with a copy book that was rapidly running out of usable paper space as she and Mirandaline swapped messages and questions. The trapped woods-elf had found a slate and bit of chalk somewhere and used them to write to the half elven bard. Teilla felt a great surge of relief that she did not have to try to decipher drow sign language anymore. That had been a major headache, mostly due to the bard's imperfect recognition of the gestures.

In the interim where the dark woods-elf had gone to find out how long she would be stuck on the other side of the portal, Ricardt had taken the opportunity to go and update Donnor outside the cave complex and had since returned. Teilla now had a really nice complete wax crayon rubbed copy of the carvings on the door. Maresa watched the message exchange with Mirandaline off to the side with a discomfited Araevin. The sun elf mage had not had an easy time with his inability to reach the other side of the portal and occasionally paced behind Teilla to give himself something to do.

Lilleen, an ancient dark elf wizard and guardian spirit of some kind, had taken a certain glee in pointing out where Araevin thoroughly lacked qualities that the best and last of Kraanfhoar's mages needed, particularly patience and ingenuity. The spectre was also the only elf of any race Teilla had heard of who used the insult "vyshaan" and not faced immediate retribution. It was almost as bad as calling someone "dhaerow." Such terms usually started vicious fights. The transparent dark elf in her pale blue gown alternated between smiling warmly down at Mirandaline and Teilla from behind the archer and looking smugly at Araevin.

Teilla was thoroughly relieved that Mir would likely be out of that strange place relatively soon. When the archer did get out of Kraanfhoar, the bard fully intended to track the elf down and get the story out of her. She wrote, _Going to meet up with you afterwards! Where? _and held it up to the shimmering portal.

Mirandaline broke into one of the bright, happy smiles that rarely crossed her dark brown face and started writing back. The other members of the expedition to Kraanfhoar's door hovered nearby and occasionally asked Teilla to scribe questions for them. Ricardt stood at Teilla's back, leaning against the side of the shaped stone corridor. "Araevin must have found out something very unpleasant about his genealogy before coming here," the bard speculated softly to the paladin.

"Seems likely," the paladin agreed. "On the other hand, it seems unjust of Lady Lilleen to blame Araevin for his ancestors."

"Too much time down here, brooding about it most likely," Teilla replied the looked over at Mirandaline.

The woods-elf finished writing and held up her slate for inspection, _I'll head for Whizban first, if I can._

_Do you want your stuff?_ Teilla scribbled back, _You have two dorjes in your pack and your bow and quiver are on this side of the portal._

The bard watched the archer turn to Lilleen and say something inaudible. After a short consultation on the other side of Kraanfhoar's door, Mirandaline wrote back, _Lilleen says that we can't really throw my pack through the portal. All I'm going to ask is that you hang onto the knapsack itself and the bundle of clothes I've got in there. I've got a few keepsakes wrapped in among my shirts that I don't want to lose. The bow and the dorjes aren't overly special but dorjes are hard to come by. Lilleen also says that they won't send me out unprepared._

Teilla heard someone snort over her shoulder and found Maresa looking at Mir's message. "Only a naive idiot would trust drow that easily," the pale genasi stated, shaking her head.

"If you have a better suggestion, please tell me so I can relay it to Mir," the bard replied blandly. "Besides, I'm not sure that Lilleen would qualify as a 'drow.' Dark elf certainly, but not drow."

Maresa harrumphed and went over to quietly talk with Araevin again. They had been doing so more or less continuously since the archer had accidentally fallen through the door.

Ricardt looked over at the whispering genasi and sun elf with Teilla. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he softly asked the bard.

"If you're thinking that we should figure out why they wanted to get through this door and make sure that Mir doesn't get mistreated for simple misfortune, then yes," Teilla said seriously, "Otherwise I have no idea what you're pondering. Wait a moment, she's writing something."

The woods-elf held up her slate, _The first letter I'll be writing will be to my brother Farnier. Don't want any of the forest folk molesting you if you happen to head in Whizban's direction without me._

Teilla carefully spelled out "thanks" in drow handcant. The sign language was rather lacking in certain courteous phrases. Ricardt smiled and nodded to Mirandaline.

Araevin came up and asked, "Could you tell her to report to me after she gets out?" The mage glanced through the portal at Lilleen hovering protectively behind Mir before continuing, "If not me, then one of Evereska's or Evermeet's high mages."

Teilla nodded and wrote, Araevin wants you to publish when you get out.

On the their side of the portal, the bard watched the archer cover her mouth with her hand and her shoulders start to shake. It looked like she was laughing. When she recovered, she wrote back, _I'll see what I learn first._

Maresa gave Teilla another nudge and said, "We should probably get a move on before some troll catches wind of our horses and decides to make a go at Donnor."

_We have to go_, Teilla wrote, _But we'll keep in touch. Good luck!_

_I'll make sure messengers wait around for replies_, Mirandaline scribbled back. _Corellon keep you and Ricardt from harm._ The archer stood up and watched as the bard put her writing materials away. Ricardt strapped Mirandaline's light knapsack to his own pack and shouldered the load. The paladin walked up to the still transparent portal and waved to the woods-elf. Teilla joined him. Mirandaline waved back as the portal grew opaque and again became solid grey stone with silvered images carved into it. The bard checked the rubbings she had made of the door to ensure they were packed so that they would not crumple.

The hike back through the cave was thoroghly dull for Teilla. With Mirandaline gone, Ricardt took up the job of scouting ahead. Araevin and Maresa were still wrapped up in their own conversation, so the bard had no one to talk to. She hummed a little tune under her breath to keep herself occupied and toyed with the idea of a ballad about the waiting mages behind Kraanfhoar's door. She was actually relived when they exited the caverns into the bright midday sunshine of the High Moor and met up with Donnor. A little confused, Teilla muttered, "How long were we underground, anyway?"

If anyone heard her, they gave no sign of it. "Still couldn't get through?" Donnor asked as he lumbered to his feet in his full plate.

Araevin shrugged and glanced at Teilla and Ricardt. The paladin ignored the mage and started saddling his and Teilla's horses and loading Mirandaline's horse with their packs. The bard snorted at the sun elf and said simply, "If you want to know what's on the other side, you'd have to talk to Mirandaline nicely."

Donnor glared at Teilla and grated, "And why did she get through the door in the first place but not Araevin?"

The half elf ignored the Lathanderite priest and turned to give Ricardt a hand with loading the horses. Maresa followed and asked quietly, "Do you have a guess as to how likely it is that she'll keep us up to date as to when she gets out?"

"I'll ask," Teilla replied, "But really, that's up to Mir."

Maresa nodded and gave a dry chuckle, "Good thing for my friends that I didn't make a fuss out of her parents then." The air genasi went to saddle her horse and called to the group, "Let's get out of here while there's still light to do it."

The bard sighed and tried to think of something to do after she and Ricardt parted company with Maresa, Araevin and Donnor. The paladin nudged the distracted half elf and presented her with her horse's reins. "A copper for your thoughts," he said quietly.

"Just wondering what we should do next," Teilla said softly.

"Well, we do need to return the horses to the Halls of Justice in Waterdeep," Ricardt noted. He started to continue, but stopped when Araevin, Maresa and Donnor came riding up to them.

"We are heading to Secomber," The sun elf mage told them, "From there you are free to come with us to the Dales. I'm sure we could use the extra people."

"I am sorry, but I have obligations I need to see to in Waterdeep," the paladin said politely.

"But I wouldn't be surprised if we showed up and helped with cleaning out Myth Drannor," Teilla added quickly. She could feel the beginnings of a plan forming as Donner led the way out of the ravine where Kraanfhoar's door lay hidden. Maresa and Araevin followed the priest up the slope.

The bard nudged her bay mare after them with Ricardt on her heels. "So, from the vacant look on your face, you're plotting something," the paladin commented with amusement. "Do I get to know what it is?"

"Well..." Teilla glanced at the trio ahead to make sure they were out of earshot before continuing, "I thought that maybe since we're heading towards Waterdeep anyway, I'd stop by the Pantheon temple and see what the priests of Corellon Larethian make of the copy I made of Kraanfhoar's door. After that, I think maybe I should pay a visit to my father. He happens to be part of that elven army in Cormanthor."

"Are you sure about that?" Ricardt asked.

"If he isn't there now, he probably will be in a month or so," Teilla chuckled. "Last I heard from him, he was in the Dalelands anyway and neither me or Mother have known him to say no to grand adventures."

"I should really see what my siblings are doing these days," Ricardt mused aloud, "I do do that from Waterdeep."

"Your brothers and sister?" the bard asked. "Well, I don't think that it would be all that far out of our way to go visit them at some point, no matter where we go after Waterdeep. Mir did say that it would be a year or two before she is let out."

Ricardt chuckled, "No hurry then."

"No hurry until after I talk to Papa," Teilla corrected. The paladin gave her a questioning look, but the bard put a finger to her lips and nodded towards Donnor, Maresa and Araevin. She suspected that when they told the tale of their fizzled expedition, Mirandaline would be a drow to them. Teilla wanted the archer to come off as the shy wood elf she was. Besides, someone needed to write a song to tell the tale of Kraanfhoar's fall and eminent resurgence. _Who knows_, Teilla thought, _The principles might actually want to tell their side of the tale._

--)--------

The three day ride up to Secomber blurred in Teilla's mind. She continued to chat with Maresa and Araevin when she rode near them, but thought mostly about how she should frame her request to write a ballad for the elves behind Kraanfhoar's door. As the party came within sight of the town, Ricardt left off scouting to act as a watchful guard to the group.

Teilla finally had a rough draft of a poem worked around the copied images of the magic portal, written mostly during the hours she and Ricardt had watch. A couple of times during the two previous nights, the bard had found herself interrupted by two things: her paladin partner and Araevin. She did not mind Ricardt's intrusions into her creative process as they tended to be for such things as dinner, a reminder that she needed to pay at least a little attention to her surroundings and when the paladin thought she could use a little rest.

Araevin, on the other hand, was more than a little disconcerting since leaving Kraanfhoar's door. He would sometimes cast message spell while riding with Maresa or Donner, but only when he was out of earshot of Ricardt and Teilla. Fortunately, the elven mage seemed blissfully unaware that the bard could read lips somewhat, given enough time and a clear line of sight. The sun elf seemed to speak with someone named Quastarte about old spell lore a good deal. He also spoke to an "Ilsevele" frequently. Araevin almost invariably seemed morose after sending messages to this Ilsevele. Teilla wondered if it was the same elf Lilleen had impersonated in the cavern for Araevin's riddle and what this Ilsevele was to him if that was the case. It was still both distracting and frustrating to learn only a quarter of a conversation.

As Secomber's outer wall neared, Maresa rode up to Teilla and said, "We'll give you your payment when we find some place to rest in there." The genasi's pale blue-white hair swirled gently around her head as she frowned at the half elf and continued, not quite asking, "You will keep us informed."

"When Mir says she's back, we'll let you know," the bard assured her. Maresa looked like she would have liked to pursue the subject further but stayed quiet.

Ricardt kneed his gelding into step with Maresa and Teilla and asked, "If you wish for messages, where should we send them?"

"Good question." The genasi turned in her saddle to where Araevin rode behind them and yelled, " Hey! How do you want to get in contact with these two?"

"I'll make each of the a small amulet that will grow warm when I would like to speak with them in person," The opal eyed sun elf called back. "If I just need to send I quick note, there are simple spells for that."

Teilla could feel a sarcastic retort building in the back of her throat about how Araevin was not the lord of her and that he had not answered the question, but Ricardt spoke up before she could, "Where should I go if you wish a face to face conference?"

"Would Highmoon suit you?" Araevin asked. "At the Slow Jug?"

The Tyrran shrugged, "One place is as good as another as long as it isn't overrun with Zhents or fiends from Myth Drannor."

The bard decided to stay quiet just this once and let Ricardt do the talking. It did not escape her notice that he did not presume to speak for both of them. She decided not to point it out.

They rode into Secomber a little past midday and found a tavern called the Tired Tramper to let the horses rest, get some food and part ways. Teilla found the cool dim interior a welcome relief to the warm air outside and ordered cold ales for herself and Ricardt. She settled at a table with the rest of the party and waited to see what Maresa, Araevin and Donnor wanted to do next.

Donnor cleared his throat self consciously and pulled out two small, dense pouches of coins. "Here's your agreed upon payment," the Lathanderite rasped, "Be sure to tell us when your dark... friend returns."

"And here are the amulets I will use if I need to get in touch with you later," Araevin added, handing over two plain wooden disks with some sort of mage mark burned on one side. Teilla sighed and pocketed them.

Ricardt frowned slightly and said, "May I presume that upon Mir's return, you will give her her pay as well?"

The bard snickered softly at the discomfited look on Donnor's face. Maresa smirked at everyone in general and said, "Good question. What say you, Araevin?"

The sun elf mage considered the problem, studying the paladin's unusually stern face with an opalline stare. Teilla could feel a frown forming between her eyes and she wondered, What in the Nine Hells is that elf up to?

Finally, Araevin said resignedly, "Your dark friend will be able to pick up her wage from myself, Ilsevele Miritar or her... consort directly. Provided she shows up in person."

Teilla felt certain that Ricardt knew as well as she did that Mirandaline was unlikely to simply walk up to strange elves and say hello. Maresa gave an embarrassed cough, gave an apologetic look towards the bard and paladin before saying, "Didn't we want to put some distance behind us before the day is out?"

"So we agreed earlier," Donnor nodded.

As the cleric, air genasi and sun elf mage stood up from the table, Araevin said, "Remember, I'll probably call on you again."

"At what point in our lifetime?" Teilla muttered under her breath. Ricardt simply nodded gravely. Araevin and Donnor headed out of the Tired tramper without further ado. Maresa paused and gave a wave to the bard and paladin before disappearing out the door.

Teilla's order of ale showed up and she concentrated on savoring the cold drink for a moment and enjoying the quiet murmur of the tavern at midday with Ricardt. They ordered a bit of roast and the bard made a few inquiries with the tavern keeper as to where they could find a decent inn with a stable.

About halfway through their noonday repast, Teilla felt Ricardt deliberately nudge her elbow. She looked up and he said softly, "I think someone's looking for us. Tall with black hair, pale grey clothing and just walked in."

The bard glanced around and caught sight of a a willowy figure who also seemed to be looking about the small tavern's common room. The newcomer's build said "elf" but Teilla did not think that he was one of the _Tel'Quessir_. He caught sight of her, Walked over and plopped himself at their table with a grin. The stranger asked in musical Trade Common, "Are you Teilla Hawksman and Ricardt Arniss?"

Ricardt nodded gravely, "And you are... ?"

"Gilnor," he said in that same singsong voice as he pulled a small roll of wax sealed pulp paper from somewhere up his sleeve. "Message for you. I am to wait for a reply."

Still a little skeptical of Gilnor, Teilla broke the plain seal on the scroll and scanned the letter. She broke into a grin and started hunting through her pack for writing materials. Ricardt's voice broke into her rummaging, "What's in the letter?"

"It's from Mirandaline," the bard answered as she continued to look through her backpack. " She says she's learning a new language and more history than you can shake a stick at."

"I take it you still plan on asking about writing a historical piece, then?" the paladin asked gently.

"You bet your sword and shield," Teilla said happily, coming up with a clean sheet of parchment, a quill pen and a stoppered bottle of ink.

She caught sight of Gilnor trying to keep a straight face, but his amusement seemed to leak out around the edges. "You know, I'm not going to disappear without a reply letter," her told her.

"You're an eladrin, aren't you?" Ricardt commented softly in passable Elven. Gilnor nodded but did not elaborate. The paladin turned to Teilla and asked in Common, "Do you have another pen and paper? Two sets of letters will give Mir more to go on with regards to Araevin and company."

The bard gave a vague wave wave at her backpack and kept writing in as small a script she could manage while keeping it legible. She wrote as many questions regarding permission for a historical ballad and as many details about what happened after the left the cave in the High Moor. Teilla hoped that there would be something more solid with their next correspondence.

--)--------

Author's note: And thus begins my back and forth-ing between my main characters. Please leave me a review with your questions, comments, musings on how good your breakfast was and anything else you care to write. BTW, a "dorje" is the psionic equivalent of a wand in case anyone was wondering.


	8. Lessons

Disclaimer: I do not own the Forgotten Realms although I wish I did so Wizards of the Coast can't wreck them. Some of the characters in this are mine and some are the hallucination of Richard Baker. I am also writing under the assumption that the Lady Penitent books do not exist. So if you asked yourself, "Didn't this happen in X book?" I have now explained it.

--)--------

_A light so bright_

_That others might_

_Be envious of its clarity_

_Sought to spread _

_Its scrolls unread_

_To a world adrift and lost._

--)--------

Mirandaline reread the letters in front of her one last time, then stood up and stretched. _Teilla __certainly__ has a way of getting her teeth into a story and shaking things out of it_, she thought with amusement, _And Ricardt's __measure__ of people is really interesting. So Araevin reports to an Ilsevele... Now I'm really curious what the right lie that isn't a lie would have been from him to her._

The dark-wood elf scanned the paladin's letter again. Personally, she agreed with his assertion that Araevin Teshurr really wanted the credit for recovering Kraanfhoar's lost lore. It seemed strange that the sun elf never thought that simply being a sun elf might be a hindrance. _Maybe he doesn't see himself as an elf anymore,_ Mirandaline guessed, _Or perhaps he's trying to prove that the telmiirkara neshyrr didn't steal all of his being._

She started writing everything she had found out from Kaeldin about the rite of transformation. The ancient wood elf was remarkably open about what the spell had cost him, what he had gained and explained in detail why Kraanfhoar's circle of arcanists had felt that this was one of the only ways left to them to defend their tower. Kaeldin firmly believed that the risk had been warranted, but thought that it was a very lonely way to cast High magic. Clearly he missed casting in a circle and just as clearly he missed feeling other elves around him. Mirandaline thought it sad that he missed the connection so and dearly hoped that he would find a way to strengthen the small part of it he had left.

_This is going to be a very long letter_, Mirandaline sighed inwardly, picking up her quill pen and wood pulp paper. She walked from her spot on the steps overlooking the rock garden back into the mage tower. Sophon had dismissed her early from her lessons in Seldruin. The somber dark elven diviner had been pleasantly surprised by her progress in learning the old elven language and had been amused to no end when she told him that in her village of Whizban it would have been strange for someone not to speak at least five different languages.

Lilleen will probably like finding accounts for Teilla's ballad, Mirandaline smiled. The lore mistress had taken it upon herself to hunt down books regarding the general history of Miyeritar in addition to tracking down anything she could find on the early development of High magic. Most of the history books were written in Seldruin and the farther back Lilleen searched the stacks, the more likely it was. The errata that Mirandaline had run across while helping to fetch and carry for the lore mistress was interesting in and of itself. One extremely old book had a faded account of an elven revolt against metallic dragon overlords a few millenea prior to the establishment of Miyeritar. More often than not Lilleen would have Mirandaline help her go over the texts about the development of elven high magic, looking for ways a psionicist could buttress, amplify, channel or otherwise assist in an arcane circle spell.

"Did a gem dragon help you all seal this place off?" The archer had asked when Lilleen had first mentioned why they were going through all the old spell lore. "Gem dragons are commonly psions."

"We did have an emerald dragon assisting, "The lore mistress had sighed, "But as far as I know, the dragon in question was a mage by training like the other three." They continued looking for possible hints but found very little except for a wizard's travel journal detailing an encounter with an illithid that used the Weave and psionics interchangeably. Both Mirandaline and Lilleen dismissed it as likely the creature had trained in both disciplines separately.

The archer padded softly through Kraanfhoar's cool star lit halls and hoped she was not late for Psittia's weapons lesson. As far as Mirandaline could tell, the wood elven battlemage was far better at sword work than she was. When the dark-wood elf asked about the strangeness of mixing blades with High arcana, Psittia simply replied, "Why would it not make sense in a nasty, ongoing, quiet war?"

Mirandaline had taken the hint and had asked no more about it.

Weapons practice had become the archer's least favorite lesson. Corythin and Kaeldin busily taught arcane sigils, marks and spells to the dark-wood elf. At least, they tried to teach her spells. She could now read arcane marks and scrolls safely. Unfortunately, Mirandaline had yet to actually do so much as light a candle using an incantation rather than psionics or more preferably, a tinderbox.

She tossed her long pale grey braid back over her shoulder and started jogging to the mage tower's practice arena. If the halls of Kraanfhoar resembled a forest at twilight, then the practice arena was a clearing within that forest. The supports to the circular room were carved to mimic tree trunks and branches and parts of the ceiling sported frescoes of a leafy canopy. Four rows of tiered seats led down to a round center area of loosely packed dirt some thirty paces across.

Mirandaline lightly ran down the steps to where the taller sylvan elf impatiently waited with a collection of weighted wooden longswords on the ground next to her. The psion set her half written letter on one of the tiers and stepped out onto the practice floor. As usual, the coppery complexioned Psittia had her wavy hair tied back and had come dressed in loose trousers, boots, tunic and heavy leather practice vest, all in varying shades of green. "Here," Psittia said resignedly and tossed a smaller brown padded vest to Mirandaline.

The dark-wood elf suppressed a sigh as she donned the heavy garment over her plain white shirt and brown trousers and hoped that today's session would be short. She had absolutely no aptitude for the blade style that the battlemage knew best. Mirandaline could understand and appreciate the mental state and discipline that Psittia wished her to adopt. The longsword was another matter entirely.

The tall sylvan elf handed Mir one of the practice swords and said sternly, "Come on guard, little one."

Mirandaline hefted the wooden blade to a right hand guard and waited for Psittia to make the first move.

She was not disappointed. Psittia swung a hard beat into Mir's guard. The archer's wooden sword bounced out wide in reaction, leaving her more open for the battlemage's swing for her left side. Mirandaline hopped back and brought her blade across to block and counterstrike.

Unfortunately, Mir stepped too far back to effectively parry or riposte. It resulted in Psittia, with her longer reach, finding hers a hand span from the tip. The battlemage stepped forward, rolled her sword over the end of Mirandaline's until the tip of the psion's sword hit the mage's hand guard and flung Mir's sword out and away from the high left side parry. Mirandaline felt her grip break on her sword as Psittia used her blade's leverage to wrench it out of the archer's hand. It hit the first tier of seats with a sharp clatter and Mir backpedaled away to avoid getting hit by another attack. The battlemage looked from her to the fallen practice sword and sighed, "You are by far the worst student I have ever tried to instruct in bladedancing."

"I never learned elven bladework," Mirandaline shrugged in apology, "Mother only taught me archery before she died."

"I know but you are not in this room to learn the bow," Mirandaline could hear the edge of exasperation in the the tall mage's alto voice as Psittia continued, "Now do it again and try not to back up so much this time."

Mirandaline thought she heard someone else come into the practice arena, but instead tried to pay attention to Psittia. A good thing she did too, as the battle mage started running the archer through basic parry riposte drills, high right, low right, high left, low left. The results were somewhat mixed as Mir could not figure out her distance with the wooden longsword and kept either retreating too far back or not enough to parry in time with the heavy longsword. Psittia sighed and said, "Again."

The dark-wood elf suppressed a groan and brought her wooden sword back up to a right side guard. Psittia started to come at the archer for another round of drills when a harsh, irritated baritone shouted, "Enough!"

Mirandaline jumped away from the sudden noise and spun around to face the speaker. Psittia swiftly turned and held her wooden sword before her in a ready guard. An unfamiliar dark elf in dark grey tunic, trousers and boots strode onto the practice arena's floor as if he were the master of the entire tower. The archer glanced at Psittia for some clue as to what to do. The battle mage seemed tense, wary and entirely focused on the dark elf.

"I was told someone was attempting to teach weaponswork back in here," The stranger growled at the sylvan elf mage. "I can see that 'attempt' is the operative term."

Mirandaline began to grow nervous and again looked to Psittia to see how she was taking the challenge to her authority. "You do not belong here," the battlemage stated in a flat tone.

"This is a salle," the dark elf said coldly, coming closer and gesturing to the room. He pointed to the archer who tried to pretend she was nothing more than a bit of dust in the air. "That is a student being mishandled by her instructor. My job as far as I understand it, is to make sure that all who can leave this plane have some familiarity with weaponswork, with the exception of the courés." The dark elf stepped closer to Psittia. He was almost tall enough to look her in the face. The sylvan elf almost involuntarily stepped back as he growled, "So, tell me exactly how I am overstepping my bounds, spellcaster."

The battlemage narrowed her eyes at the newcomer and in clipped tones asked, "How did you get in here anyway?" Mirandaline wondered the same thing. Usually the only visitors to the practice arena were Kraanfhoar's High mages. On the other hand, Mir could not remember if anyone had said anything about other spirits coming in from the Arvandor side of the mage tower and suddenly wondered if her mother might find out she was here.

"I walked in," the drow smirked, interrupting Mirandaline's musing. "Now, since I'm such a nice elf, I'll make you a deal. A one touch bout. If the girl lands one good hit on me, then I'll leave you both alone. If she doesn't, then I take over the training for both of you."

"This would mean so much more if I knew who you were," Psittia grumbled. Louder she continued, "Mirandaline, do you feel up to a bout with this yahoo?"

The archer looked over at the dark elf smiling smugly at Psittia. "Can I refuse?" she asked uneasily, "Also, will I be able to walk after the bout and are there any other restrictions? And who determines a 'good hit'?"

"Nope, probably, no spell casting and your ersatz 'instructor' there," He replied briskly, "In that order. Now go find a sword, girl."

Mirandaline glanced at Psittia. The battlemage shrugged and gestured to the pile of forgotten practice swords. Mir picked one at random and backed off to let the strange drow choose his practice blades. When he picked up and hefted a sword in each hand for balance, Mir felt a strong urge to start swearing. The last time someone had tried coming at her with a weapon in each hand, she had stayed away and whittled them down with arrows. She resigned herself to a ludicrously short bout.

She came on guard and decided to do something unconventional but within the bounds of the sparring exercise. She tapped the wellspring in her mind where her psionics waited, gently drew forth enough for a small jink and focused on a point directly behind the armed and waiting dark elf. The green fern scent that always accompanied her manifestations started to fill the air. She advanced with an overhead cut to his head. He lazily moved to block Mir's sword with his left hand blade and sent his right hand sword arcing for the archer's midsection.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Mirandaline released the amassed psionic power and felt space collapse around and through her before resolving itself into the practice arena directly behind her dark elven opponent. She held the blade in a guard on the left side and reached out with her right hand to shove the stranger.

It might have worked if he had not stepped off to one side and sped up his initial swing to carry through to where she now was. His movement opened the distance beyond her reach and she had to step forwards a little off balance to adjust the distance between them. Midstep, his sword collided into hers with enough force behind it to knock her off her feet and send her stumbling. She dropped the annoying blade and half ran, half fell past him to recover to some semblance of a stable stance. Psittia caught her and asked, "Are you all right?"

When the archer nodded, the battlemage glared at the intruding drow and drew breath to say something disparaging. "Do you always fight like that or am I a special case?" he interrupted, curious.

"I don't like to get close," Mirandaline answered warily and surreptitiously took a step away from him. Psittia moved a little forward, effectively putting herself between the stranger and the archer.

"It is glaringly apparent that you avoid closing to an effective range with a sword, girl," He commented blandly, "Tell me, spellcaster, what did the girl do right?"

Psittia's glare gave way to confusion as she answered, "Mir took you by surprise."

"True enough," The dark elf conceded, "There might be hope for the both of you yet. I'll be taking over the weapons lessons for you two."

"You are joking," The sylvan elf stated flatly.

"Sometimes, but not now," he shrugged then smirked smugly, "Besides, you acknowledged my authority over you when you answered my question. Now, from where you two are standing, I want you, girl, to get to the other side of the room without getting tagged by the spellcaster or me. And no teleporting this time. Any questions?"

"Weapons?" Psittia asked, resigned.

"None," he said briskly. "Anything else?"

"What shall we call you _qu'el'saruk_?" Mirandaline asked quietly.

He looked over at her and frowned for a moment before answering, "Mithias."

"That isn't your name," The archer countered, "It shouldn't take you that long to remember your own name."

"Just because I never had occasion to use my given surname doesn't make it any less mine, girl," Mithias snorted, "Now get moving."

For the next hour or so, Mirandaline ran, skipped and dodged back, forth and around the practice arena floor, seats and steps. To both Psittia's and Mithias's surprise, the psion was actually quite adept at avoiding getting tagged. Sometimes the warmage and weaponsmaster managed to corner and tag her, but more often than not, all they usually caught was the very end of her long braided hair as it slipped through their fingers. _All that time walking through the Stormhorns avoiding other hunters must have paid off,_ Mirandaline thought wearily as she carefully folded her half finished letter, put it in a trouser pocket and walked to the classroom where Kaeldin and Corythin preferred to hold their lessons.

When she got there, Mirandaline found Corythin, Kaeldin and Sophon sitting around the workroom's one plain, sturdy wooden table with a tray of fruit, yoghurt, honey and flatbread and a carafe of water. Kaeldin pushed the snack towards her and said, "I take it Psittia ran you ragged today. You look almost transparent."

The archer shook her head, plopped herself down on the one remaining chair and drizzled some honey on a piece of flatbread. "Psittia didn't wear me out," she said, "A drow with really bad salle manners did."

"Oh really," Corythin arched a wheat colored eyebrow at her. "What was he doing there?"

The archer shrugged and started eating her flatbread. She idly wondered if it was only a few hours that she had spent in the battlemage's practice arena. In any case, since none of the assembled mages seemed inclined to rush her repast, Mirandaline tuned out their conversation about how Mithias found his way into Kraanfhoar from the main plane of Arvandor and simply enjoyed the feeling of belonging with the three elves near her. _Why couldn't I have known them when this place was solidly in Faerûn?_ she sighed inwardly.

She let her sense of connection to other elves wander. For whatever reason, it felt stronger here than on the Material plane. She supposed it was a side effect of being around more elven souls than since her early childhood. She could feel their connection to her and the rest of the mages and how strong those psychic bonds were. Mirandaline could feel Kaeldin's presence, dimmer than her own, but still considerably stronger than what she remembered Araevin as. Sophon seemed tightly bound to Corythin. At the very edge of her range she could feel Lilleen and Psittia and their bond with Kaeldin. She could feel connections going off them towards other elven souls, presumably friends and family...

Kaeldin nudged her and asked, "Daydreamer, are you still here?"

"Just thinking," Mirandaline shrugged and turned her attention back towards the yoghurt, honey and flatbread.

"We were wondering why you think this Mithias was from the Underdark," The sylvan elf's eyes shifted from dark blue to pale yellow as he spoke.

"His accent sounds like he's from one or the other of the Underdark cities, he didn't react when I addressed him as a 'house weaponsmaster'," She answered then hesitated with the last of her suspicions.

"Out with it child," Corythin said sternly. "The more you and Psittia can give us the better the rest of us can check him out."

"Well, he didn't feel connected, the every other elf race is," Mirandaline said awkwardly spreading her hands, "I've never really felt that connection with drow elves. Although sometimes I wish I didn't feel it with every other elf near me."

She sighed and looked at the three mages at the table. They all sat up straighter and glanced at each other in surprise. "What did I say?" the archer asked in confusion.

"One of the things that makes High magic circles work is that psychic connection between elves," Corythin explained. "It was one of the things that was altered in the Descent."

"At least, that is what we believe happened," Sophon said slowly, "Certainly that has been a stumbling point for the last three students."

"Didn't one of them learn how if they were able to learn High magic?" Mirandaline asked.

Kaeldin tapped the table and said musingly, "He did, but he had to work at it."

"If I remember correctly, psions tend to have aptitudes similar to wizard disciplines," Corythin said thoughtfully, "Yours are what? Teleporting and..."

"Telekinesis," the archer finished for him. Feeling a bit bored and wanting to show off a little, she mentally picked a fig and a small paring knife up off the snack tray, brought them in front of her and started to carefully peel the fig with the knife, keeping both aloft before her. When she finished peeling the small purple fruit, Mirandaline willed a piece of flatbread up and spooned a dollop of yoghurt onto it and brought that in front of her. She then delicately set the paring knife to cutting the fig while still holding the fruit together in midair. When the fig was suitably diced, Mirandaline set the pieces on her yoghurt and flatbread, sent the peels over to the room's small rubbish bin, took a hold of her flatbread, rolled it up by hand and stated to eat her snack. The fern scent that usually accompanied her psionics gently wafted through the room.

"That was well done," Corythin commented speculatively.

"I cannot recall any apprentice before or after shutting the door who showed that level of precision with a mage hand spell," Kaeldin said with surprise.

"Oh, I could tell you a few stories," Sophon chuckled. "If I recall, I worked with the novices more often than you two did. There were a couple who figured out how to manipulate lock picks with spells. Delicate work but more often than not, they dropped something if they tried to control more than two objects. How did you learn that level of control?"

Mirandaline swallowed her mouthful of food before answering, "Playing with feathers. I used to see how many I could keep in the air while Mother was fletching arrows. I would also tease cats with telekinetically controlled feathers, including my were-cat friend. She worked on catching it and I worked on keeping it away for as long as possible."

"How much weight can you control like that?" Corythin asked in his scholar's voice.

"Five pounds or so," Mirandaline said as she reached for the carafe of water and poured herself a glass. "I can do shoves and bursts that are stronger but not as dexterous."

"Just because you cannot juggle leviathans does not make it any less impressive, young Mir," Kaeldin firmly stated.

"I wonder..." Sophon turned to the archer, "Can you do that with something that is not solid?"

"I've never tried," Mirandaline shrugged.

Corythin and Kaeldin exchanged glances. "I think a change in exercises is in order," Kaeldin said slowly, and reached a coppery hand over to the honey pot and dipper on the snack tray. He pulled the dipper out and spun it about to trap the honey on it. He held it up and said, "Mir, I would like you to catch a drop and kinetically hold it above the tabletop. If you can, try to keep it in the shape of a sphere."

The archer waited for a bead of honey to form at the tip of the dipper. As it detached from the end of the honey spoon, she "caught" it and almost lost it immediately. Mirandaline managed to keep it from hitting the tabletop but found it spreading out of shape. She adjusted her telekinesis and the bit of honey stubbornly tried to drip down. For every adjustment she made, the drop would go around the "touch" she used to keep it aloft. She found it too difficult to keep it spherical and instead concentrated on keeping the drop above the tabletop. Kaeldin's voice broke into her concentration, "You can stop now, Mir."

Sighing in relief, she let go and the drop of honey hit the sanded walnut tabletop where Sophon took a small towel and swiped it clean. Mirandaline shut her eyes and massaged her temples. _That was considerably harder than a feather_, she thought tiredly.

Corythin's measured voice said speculatively, "I believe we have a direction we should explore."

"Oh really," Lilleen's melodic soprano voice cut in. Mirandaline could feel Kaeldin, Corythin and Sophon jump in surprise. The archer opened her eyes and found the lore mistress standing by the table, coal black hands on her hips, her face stern. "What have you all been doing?" she demanded. "Mir looks exhausted!"

"I'm all right..." Mirandaline began but the lore mistress interrupted.

"Your face is pale, those are the same clothes you went to weapons practice in and your braid looks more like a fuzzy tail than a plait," Lilleen pointed out. "Are you done here?"

"We were going to call it quits for today," Kaeldin assured the lady mage. He sounded as if there was laughter hiding somewhere in the back of his throat that he did not wish to voice. Sophon covered a grin that rapidly spread over his ebon face. Corythin started a chuckle that ended in a cough.

"What is so funny?" Lilleen asked, slightly irritated. Mirandaline wondered the same thing. For some reason, the menfolk seemed both amused and optimistic.

_Something to do with levitating honey?_ Mirandaline guessed silently, feeling very much the child in an adult conversation.

"I will tell you later," Kaeldin chuckled.

"Males," Lilleen heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. The gesture reminded the archer of Teilla and she giggled at the theatrical reaction. The lore mistress shooed Mirandaline out of the room saying, "Come along child, you need some rest."

Still laughing softly, Mirandaline got up and followed Lilleen out of the workroom. She remembered the letter she had started before weapons practice and said, "I was hoping to finish a letter to Teilla and Ricardt today."

Lilleen smiled, "If you get washed up and promise to get some rest afterwards, you can write while I brush your hair into some semblance of order."

"You do realize I've been taking care of myself for the past forty winters," Mirandaline pointed out with some amusement. "I'm not helpless."

"Far from it," Lilleen agreed, "But unbound your hair nearly comes down to your knees and you look tired enough to drift off into reverie while finishing your letter. If you do, you will likely have a bigger tangle later. Besides, I would like to hear what the terrible trio there were so smug about and your version of what happened in weapons today. I already heard Psittia's version of events."

"All right," Mirandaline conceded. She really did feel tired and arguing with the lore mistress over whether or not her hair got brushed before reverie just did not seem worth the trouble. Then she remembered, "Oh Lilleen, Teilla wanted to ask if it was all right with you and Kaeldin if she wrote a lament about Miyeritar's fall."

"Teilla is the half human gold elf, correct?" Lilleen considered the request. "I do not see why she should not. It is a lovely idea."

"You aren't upset that someone with sun elf blood wants to write it?" Mirandaline asked, curious.

"I suppose it would be reasonable to hate all _Ar'TelQuessir_ for all the wrongs Aryvaandar did to all I ever cared about," Lilleen mused, "But I have been a spirit who has seen over fifty generations pass since my time. It seems truly pointless and a waste of energy to resent an entire race that seems to be in decline anyway. It seems doubly silly when there is an entire section of Arvandor devoted to those who cannot see past an elf's skin color."

"Oh," Mirandaline could not think of anything to say to that. "She'll be glad to hear you aren't lumping her with Araevin then."

"I think it is perfectly reasonable to dislike those who cannot see past their own goals," the lore mistress said briskly.

"Mithias wandered in from Arvandor," the archer said softly then spoke up hopefully, "Do you think my mother might manage to wander in too?"

Lilleen sighed, "I do not think she would be able to. If you know someone who has passed to Arvandor in the usual way, the way in is barred. Kaeldin's wife, Timiri, would have figured a route in here by now were it possible. Sometimes I wish she had. Kaeldin would be much happier then. Now you go wash up while I go find a brush."

_I wonder how he gets released from guard duty_, Mirandaline mused silently. Aloud she said, "I'll tell Teilla to send a copy of that lament here when she finishes it." She slipped into a dormitory bathing room and thought about how she would relay this busy day to Ricardt and Teilla.

--)--------

Author's note: nder the formula "if it looks like X, sounds like X and acts like X" in all likelyhood it is X under an alias and isn't mine. I know I'm playing around with canon in strange fashions, particularly with regards to Elven High Magic, but I have limited resources and almost zero references to how it works. If there are questions, please ask them and/or please leave a review. Happy reading and thanks!


	9. Rumor and Conjecture

Disclaimer: Oh for the love of little spiders... This is now my alternate universe. I found my Forgotten Realms happy place. Wizards seems to be having a hard time making one.

--)--------

_But Darkness seeks_

_Light's lore to keep_

_And cloaks itself a-golden._

_With words of venom_

_It choked the phenom_

_And shadow wrapped the flame._

--)--------

Ricardt walked back to the rooms he and Teilla rented at the Sapphire House in Waterdeep. The stable master at the Halls of Justice had been mildly surprised to find someone returning mounts in good condition. The paladin supposed that more often than not, neither horse or rider ever returned from their missions for the temple. Sometimes Ricardt felt relieved that the church of Tyr did not want him on official business very often.

_At least Tyr seems pleased with me most of the time and they did have a message from Ilsie and Wilhelm_, he thought with a sigh as he walked through the open door of the inn's front office. The paladin waved to the freckled young man behind the check in counter as the youth talked quietly with two elves, both pale skinned in silver mail and green uniforms, one golden blond and one with jet black hair. The boy waved back but kept most of his attention on his conversation.

The paladin climbed the stairs to the adjoining rooms he and rented and hoped that they would not stay in Waterdeep long. Two days ago, Gilnor had come bearing another letter from Mirandaline and left with a rough copy of the poem Teilla had concocted about about the carving on Kraanfhoar's door. The paladin had not much to add to Teilla's letter except that he wished the archer the best of luck with her studies.

He unlocked and opened the door to his sparse room and found the adjoining door to Teilla's room ajar. The bard was not there. Ricardt suspected the questions about the ancient door she wanted to ask would result in lengthy answers, or non-answers, from the Pantheon Temple. He did not expect to the Teilla until early evening. _Perhaps I should inquire at the Halls of Justice about a temporary post if we might be staying here for a while_, he mused.

Ricardt dropped his cloak on the foot of his bed and started to unbuckle his sword belt when the doorknob from the hall into Teilla's room jiggled around with a metallic rattle. "I suppose she had an easier time at the temple than I thought," he chucked softly. "Leave it to Teilla to charm answers out of them."

The door opened into Teilla's room and the red haired half elf did not immediately walk in. Instead, the black haired elf from the check in desk peeked in the door. "Can I help you?" Ricardt asked warily and surreptitiously moved his sword hand nearer to his blade. If the elf intended robbery, he was going to hit a snag shortly.

"Um... Ewersod?" the elf said uncertainly and looked over his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" A musical tenor, presumably Ewersod, asked in Elven, "Is this not Teilla's room?"

"Lady Hawksman is out at the moment," Ricardt replied in Elven, his human voice a little rougher and deeper than the elf's. "Since the lady is not in, I must ask you to either wait outside or in my room if you wish to speak with her when she returns from her errands."

"Is it the dr..." Ewersod, the blond elf, stuck his head through the door and looked in. "Oh, the paladin."

"Who would like to remind you that you are both on the verge of breaking and entering," Ricardt told him, still using Elven, "And I again ask that you both either wait outside or in my room until Teilla returns."

Ewersod glowered for a moment until the dark haired elf said in embarrassed Common, "If you're Teilla's travelmate, then I'm all right with waiting in your room. Ewersod was just a little worried about his daughter."

"Of course," Ricardt said mildly, also switching to Common. "I would hate to have to report a concerned parent to the watch for unlawful entry. If you don't mind shutting Teilla's door and coming through the hallway..." The paladin opened the hallway door to his room in invitation. The two elves shut the door to Teilla's room and walked over to Ricardt's sparse room. Ricardt shut the connecting door between his and the bard's rooms and motioned the two elves to the neatly made bed, the only decent place to sit in the small room. "So, you came here worried about Teilla?" the paladin inquired, curious.

"A rumor started about three weeks ago," Ewersod explained, "That a drow elf had found a way into a library of ancient magic. Little Tee's name was sometimes tossed around in these stories."

"Three weeks ago would be about the same time we parted ways with Mage Teshurr and company," Ricardt sighed and continued, "So you got worried and wanted to know if Teilla was in danger. Sounds reasonable." The paladin turned to the dark haired elf next to Ewersod. "And you, sir, are here because..."

"Oh, I'm Jassin Laelithar," The moon elf said amiably. Jassin flicked a glance at Ewersod before continuing, "I heard conflicting stories and wanted to see which parts of them were true. That and a friend asked a favor of me that could be carried out while I was on leave."

"What have you heard, anyway?" Ricardt asked, half worried.

"Well, aside from my daughter running around the Heartlands with a drow elf... Rumor has it the the dark elf prevented Mage Teshurr from recovering some lore that might be useful to repairing Myth Drannor's mythal," The blond sun elf eyed the paladin challengingly.

"Well..." Ricardt started uneasily. Fortunately for him, Teilla came bursting through the door to his room, virtually aglow with excitement.

"Ricardt! I found out..." Her expression gave way to confusion as she took in the two elves in the room. "Papa! What are you doing here?"

"Checking on the company you keep, sweetheart," Ewersod got up and gave the half elf a relieved hug. "How's your mother?"

"Mum was all right when we saw her three months ago," Teilla replied. "What's so wrong that you came rushing to find me?"

"I heard you recently had a brush with a dark elf recently," Ewersod said seriously, "Are you all right?"

"Didn't anyone tell you?" The bard trailed off when she saw Ricardt shaking his head.

"I haven't had a chance to tell them yet," he said regretfully. "They got here only a little before you did."

"Right," Teilla sighed. Ricardt got the distinct feeling she knew the jig was up. "Papa, remember my last letter where I told you about my new traveling companion, Mirandaline?"

"Yes," Ewersod replied briskly. "I'm looking forward to meeting her."

Ricardt smacked his palm against his forehead as he realized that some panic could have been averted had Teilla bothered to detail Mir's race. Jassin looked askance at the paladin.

"Well," the bard continued doggedly, "Mir won't be available for a while. She's the drow who went through Kraanfhoar's door."

Ewersod frowned, "I thought you said she was a wood elf."

"Mirandaline Sparrowhawk is an elf of dark elven and wood elven parentage," Ricardt explained, resigned.

Jassin gave a low whistle, "That would be an unfortunate person to start running around Cormanthor now. They've been organizing _dhaeraowathilas_ to combat the drow already there."

_Why doesn't he seem overly surprised?_ Ricardt wondered, flicking a glance at the moon elf. Aloud he asked, "Did they do something to warrant such treatment?" When both Jassin and Ewersod turned frowns on him, the paladin shrugged, "I have to ask. If the drow are defending themselves or otherwise minding their own business..."

"They weren't," Ewersod caught the paladin's drift and explained, "The Jaerle and Auzkovyn were raiding the Dales periodically long before the Crusade chased the Dlardrageths in. They've taken to making assassination attempts on our officers."

"Thank you for the clarification," Ricardt said, relieved.

"Not a problem," Jassin waved it away, "Clearly you are unfamiliar with the factions in the lands in and around Cormanthor."

"Now, before I was so rudely interrupted," Teilla harrumphed. Ricardt, Jassin and Ewersod all turned their attention back to the bard and she continued, "Thank you. Now the inscription around the door says, 'Our dusk has fallen, we await the dawn.'"

"That's it?" Ricardt asked, disappointed.

That's all of the obvious writing," the bard smirked with all of the smugness of a cat carefully ignoring the cream. "I'm not the only one who has made a rubbed copy of that portal and taken it to the temple. They compared mine to one of theirs and found that one of the borders had changed."

"Let me guess," Ewersod stated blandly, "Writing?"

"Down along the bottom border," Teilla grinned.

Ricardt frowned thoughtfully and asked, "What did it say?"

"And here's where my day of fact finding took a turn for the worse," Teilla pouted, " The priest of Sehaine Moonbow I was talking to wouldn't tell me and he wandered off with my rubbings. I though he was going to look something up, so I waited around for a while but he didn't come back."

"I think I'm a bit lost," Jassin said sheepishly, raising a hand.

"Could you make a copy of the inscription from memory?" Ricardt asked.

Teilla shook her head, "Not without seeing it again. At least not if you want an accurate copy. You're thinking it was in Seldruin?"

"Copy it and send it to Mir," Ricardt nodded, then sighed, "Give her something to do besides turn wizard."

"Let me see if I have this straight," Ewersod broke in. The sun elf stood up and started pacing around the paladin's room, making wide sweeping gestures as he spoke, "The 'drow' Mage Teshurr was griping about is your friend Mir, who is a mixed elf scout, which you failed to even hint to me in the past six months. You have some means of contacting your friend behind the library door. A library with supposed lore concerning mythal repair that Mage Teshurr can't get to. Why hasn't this girl found the information he needs to fix the mythal surrounding Myth Drannor yet?"

Ricardt and Teilla glanced at each other in surprise. "Because this is the first we've heard of it," Ricardt answered mildly to the irate elf. "Araevin didn't talk to us at all about what he hoped to find beyond Kraanfhoar's door. Mir wouldn't have guessed it either because she took pains to avoid being in the same vicinity of the main party most of the time."

"We just knew he wanted in pretty badly, was sore about not getting in and acted like Mir was a problem before she'd actually done anything," Teilla added.

"Oh," Ewersod said and sat down again.

"Could I interrupt this debate for a minute?" Jassin asked. "Would it help you both if an officer from the Crusade went and talked to the priests at the Pantheon Temple in an official capacity?"

Teilla blinked, "You would do that?"

"Well, it's easy enough to draw up documents that look official enough..." the black haired elf trailed off as he noticed Ricardt solemnly shaking his head.

"We'll get to the answer without means of dubious legality," The paladin said gravely.

"It was only a suggestion," Jassin shrugged.

"What brought you here anyway?" Ricardt asked.

"Oh, well, I overheard some discussion of 'the drow that thwarted Mage Teshurr.' At about the same time one of the wood elf scouts that I've been working with closely got a letter saying that his cousin had gotten herself stuck behind some ancient portal and it might be a while before she could extricate herself back to Faerûn," Jassin grinned. "Then Ewersod told me that Teilla's name had been tossed around with regards to 'the drow.' I started to think the two were related and wanted to see if they actually were."

"Papa's a blade dancer. I know where he fits into the army, more or less," Teilla looked hard at Jassin. "What do you do?"

"Scouting, sabotage and code breaking," Jassin had the grace to look a little abashed when he said it. "I was a trap springer loosely attached to the Tomb Guard before the Shadovar attacked Evereska."

"That makes sense," Teilla heaved a sigh.

Ricardt carefully hid his grin and said, "If you really want to help us out, keeping an ear open to rumors in Cormanthor would useful."

"If Ewersod's willing, he can keep an eye out in Cormanthor. I'm likely to get moved back to Evereska. I can keep a look out there," The moon elf looked so enthusiastic as he said it that Ricardt wondered if he just let the proverbial fox into the chicken coop.

"Not to sound ungrateful or anything," Teilla studied Jassin, "But why would you do something for a half dark elf you've never met?"

"Because I owe Heinfor Sparrowhawk my life a couple times over and he asked me to check up on his oddball younger cousin," Jassin explained, "He would've come himself if he could get away from Lornith long enough."

"Lornith is his commanding officer?" Ricardt asked.

"Lornith is Heinfor's father," Jassin explained. "Lornith is also the leader of one of the _dhaeraowathilas_."

Teilla shut her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "All right," she said, "Mir should avoid getting caught in Cormanthor and Araevin was specifically after mythal lore regarding repairs. Was there any other mess not of our doing that you wanted to dump on us?"

"Sorry," Jassin said sheepishly.

"We'll mention that Heinfor is in Cormanthor and concerned for her," Ricardt said in a gentle voice. "On the way to the High Moor, Mir was wondering if any of her kin had Returned."

Jassin nodded and stood up. Ewersod laughed ruefully, "I come running halfway across Faerûn to save my little girl and she doesn't need saving."

"Life does have its little ironies," the bard sighed as the sun elf stood up. Teilla gave Ewersod a hug and said, "I do appreciate the gesture, Papa."

"Thanks," Ewersod said, "So, you are going to meander your way to Cormanthor eventually, right?"

"Eventually," Teilla answered. "We'll look for you when we get there."

Both elves nodded in reply and walked out the door to Ricardt's room. When the door was shut behind Ewersod and Jassin, Teilla turned to the paladin and asked, "How did they end up in your room when I got here?"

"Jassin jimmied the lock on your door and the connecting door was open," Ricardt answered as he tiredly sat down on his bed. "I informed them that if they continued in an apparent act of breaking and entering, I would be forced to summon the watch."

"And so they decided on option 'B,'" Teilla finished. "For a moment there I thought Papa actually knocked on your door first."

"He did seem worried," Ricardt noted mildly. "So, the temple took our copy of the inscriptions on Kraanfhoar's door, but we know that something they'd never seen before has appeared along the bottom border."

"I'm thinking no one has ever made a copy of it while someone was inside," Teilla added. "Anyway, it's something we can't follow up on very well."

"I hate the feeling of uselessness this puzzle is giving me," Ricardt grumbled as rubbed his face. He felt stubble under his palm and noted in the back of his mind that he needed to shave.

"Me too," Teilla sighed. "So... Hear anything interesting from the Halls of Justice?"

"Well, aside from the stablemaster being pleasantly shocked that someone was returning mounts, I did have a message waiting for me from Ilsie and Wilhelm," Ricardt said with more energy than he felt.

"Your younger brother and older sister?" Teilla asked, interested. "How are they doing?"

"Well, they're both at home near Olostin's Hold," Ricardt continued, "And they would like me to come by at the earliest opportunity before winter. Something about someone doing an excavation where they shouldn't be."

"Well, that's easy enough, since I can't think of anything really pressing that I need to do here," Teilla noted. "Shall we resupply and set off then?"

"Suits me just fine, Ricardt agreed. "I'll see if I can hire on with some merchants heading for Everlund as a guard and them we can back track back to Olostin's Hold."

"Sounds like a plan," Teilla sighed in relief and leaned on the outer door jamb.

Ricardt took in the bard's tired posture and suggested, "How about I save off on the resupply run until tomorrow and instead drag you to someplace with good food and music?"

"And no elves," Teilla added, "I'm feeling more human today than usual."

"You must have had a really bad day at the temple then," the paladin said sympathetically, "What happened that you left out?"

"I got grilled by a couple of door guards about why I wanted to talk with one of the lore masters there," Teilla grumped. "They wouldn't leave it alone when I said it was a personal matter."

"You might have avoided that by telling them you were there for research concerning an elven relic," Ricardt said mildly. "It is true after all."

"That probably wouldn't have worked either," Teilla said glumly, sitting down beside the paladin. "It was more of a 'you're not an elf' reaction than anything else."

"Seems strange to put door guards with that attitude in the middle of a human city, I but I can't say that I haven't had that kind of reception too," Ricardt put an arm around the bard's shoulders and gave her a little hug, "Now, how about we go find that good food and music?"

"Do we have to go in that order?" Teilla asked, "And can we go dancing too?"

_If the prospect of having me step on her toes all night seems enjoyable, she really must have had a trying day_, Ricardt thought. Aloud he said, "I hope you know a place because you know I certainly don't."

Teilla's broad happy smile lit up the room and Ricardt felt his heart lift a little at the half elf's renewed spirits. _Clearly a night of revelry is exactly what she needs_, Ricardt thought as Teilla seized his hand and practically dragged him out the door. He felt a good deal better for being able to do something helpful and resolved to do what he could to ensure a quiet trip to Olostin's Hold in the morning.

--)--------

Lore note: a _dhaeraowathila _is a band of elven devotees to Severash who join up to hunt and kill drow.

Author's note: Next chapter will also be focused on Teilla and Ricardt before I switch back to Kraanfhoar. As always I do appreciate reviews, even the ones that aren't positive, so please leave me a note.


	10. A Brief Interlude

Disclaimer: To quote Mace Hammerhand over at Candlekeep, "Their Realms are dead, long live ours! I will ignore the nonsense they've cooked up. I will not stand for creative stupidity." My sentiments _exactly_.

* * *

The grey stone walls of Olostin's Hold jutted out of the forest clearing as Ricardt and Teilla walked towards the village. The bard almost skipped down the trail with her good spirits. Ricardt's idea of a night of revelry had been exactly what she needed after her rebuffed questions in Waterdeep and her father's worried visit immediately after.

In any case, she looked forward to seeing Ilsie and Wilhelm again. It had been a while since Ricardt's travels had brought him near enough to visit his brother and sister. Teilla knew he looked forwards to the visit as well. They walked through the main street of the village as it wrapped around the outer wall of the old fort. Once it might have been a strategic outpost for serious defense, but now the basalt structure served more as a granary and occasional refuge from irate goblins. Sometimes Teilla could convince Ricardt to tell stories about fending goblins off his family's cabin. "So, is Ilsie still living in the southwest edge of town?" the bard asked conversationally.

"She should be," Ricardt nodded. "She's probably let the garden overgrow again."

"She just likes the natural look," Teilla rolled her eyes and grinned.

"The pruning I did the last time we were here will have grown in by now," Ricardt sighed, "I'd like to at least find the way to the front door."

Teilla groaned, "I forgot that your sister doesn't leave tracks."

"Wilhelm does," the paladin grinned, "If we have to, we can track him in."

"Good to have a backup plan," the bard agreed.

Ricardt led the way along the road before turning south at the baker's shop towards the High Forest and Ilsie's homestead. The one story wooden buildings surrounding the old keep quickly gave way to the ash and birch on the edge of the expansive forest.

The paladin nudged Teilla and pointed out a relatively fresh foot trail leading deeper into the woods. _If it doesn't lead to Ilsie's, then we can probably ask whoever lives at the end of this path for directions_, Teilla thought wryly.

Fortunately for the both of them, Ricardt remembered the right path and in a few minutes the bard and the paladin came upon a small cabin. Rather, the structure would have appeared to be a log cabin were it not so overgrown with wild roses, blackberry brambles and poison oak. They looked around for the lavender and rosemary patch that marked the way to the front door. Teilla took a deep breath and said contentedly, "If it weren't for the poison oak, I would love your sister's garden."

"You can always follow your nose in," Ricardt agreed with a smile.

The bard grinned back and took another deep whiff of rosemary. Before they began to pick their way through to Ilsie's door, the plant wreathed portal opened up and a dark haired man slightly, taller and more rawboned than Ricardt in dust colored homespun shirt and trousers came out and called, "Teilla, Ricardt! It's good to see you again. I see you managed to find the front door this time."

"So we did," Ricardt grinned, "How's life treating you, Wilhelm?"

"Pretty good," Wilhelm replied, "Still on the outs with most of your church?"

"Mostly, except for the stablemaster at the Halls of Justice in Waterdeep," the paladin shrugged. Wilhelm chuckled and ushered Ricardt and Teilla into the overgrown cabin.

The inside of the small structure was hung with bunches of herbs and terra cotta flower pots with a variety of plants in bloom. It was much better lit than the bard remembered. She looked up and saw that the roof had been relaid with translucent glass.

"I see you've noticed my most recent improvement to this place," a soft, pleased contralto voice said from behind the bard. Teilla turned to face a woman her own height, but with a stockier build and deep brown hair and eyes. She resembled Ricardt a good deal in the face but had a softer cast about her cheeks and nose. No bard worth their instrument would have called the brunette human woman "pretty," but Ilsie's customary serene and unflappable expression had a beauty all its own.

"It definitely makes this place into much less of a cave," the half elf agreed heartily.

"Glad you appreciate it," Ilsie smiled. "When I sent word out to Ricardt, I had hoped you were still traveling with him. I need some dragon kin identified."

"What do they look like?" Ricardt called from the cabin's iron stove and kitchen fireplace. "And where are you hiding the tea these days?" Teilla looked over and saw both the paladin and his brother poking about cabinets and jars. A kettle hung out into the fireplace and stream idly trailed from the spout. Thee bard hoped it was water, but one never knew in a druid's home.

"Where have the mugs gotten to?" Wilhelm asked.

"You don't want to use them," Ilsie called back, "A family of field mice has decided to use them as hibernation dens."

"Figures," Ricardt sighed. "Don't worry, Will, I found the bowls. Those are uninhabited." Teilla and Ilsie wandered into the crowded kitchen area to join the men. The paladin set out four mismatched earthenware bowls and asked, "So, what did these particular dragon kin look like?"

"Half breeds for certain," Ilsie told him, "Humans or elves perhaps. They had very dark, fine scales. Matte, not glossy. Serrated pointed ears. Some of them had eye or cheek ridge horns. A couple had pale hair."

"Elven faces," Wilhelm added, "With bat wings."

Ricardt pondered for a little while. Teilla pulled the tea kettle off the fire before it boiled and started to pour it into the bowls. Finally, the paladin said, "It isn't a half dragon type I know of. Most of the human sized ones don't have wings. Teilla?"

"If I knew knew something, I would've spoken up," the bard shrugged in apology.

"That's a shame," Wilhelm said resignedly, "Because on my way here I caught a glimpse of four of these fellows moving through the woods to the north."

"Odd..." Ricardt frowned. "You don't usually call me over for creature identification, Ilsie. What's wrong?"

"One of the undines said that these creatures were headed towards Shaalkar Manor," the druid said gravely.

The paladin looked blankly at his sister. Teilla frowned and said, "I've heard of the place. A ruin in the middle of the woods, right? Weird traps?"

"That's the place," Ilsie nodded. "There used to be a small contingent of elves that warned people away from the site, but I haven't seen them for a few seasons."

"Somehow, I get the feeling we're going to go check this out," the bard rolled her eyes.

"Of course," Ilsie said demurely, "I do need to determine the nature of these dragon kin in my territory."

"I suppose we should get going then," Ricardt did not sound overly enthused by the prospect so much as resigned to it. "We don't want them to get too much of a lead over us."

"I know a few shortcuts," Ilsie smiled mirthlessly, "Still, we are likely to get there after them and I do not care to go into Shaalkar's crypts after them."

"Damn," Wilhelm looked down at his bowl, "I was hoping to finish the tea."

"Well, gulp it down and let's get going," Ilsie said reasonably. "I would like to get us to Shaalkar Manor before dark to get a better look at these fellows."

"I'm just pulling you leg, sister dear," Wilhelm grinned. "Ricardt, Teilla? Ready to go?"

"Since we just walked in and haven't even taken our travel cloaks off, I should say that we could set off now," Teilla said blandly before breaking into a chuckle.

Ilsie opened her cabin door and they all trooped out. Ricardt and Teilla scooped up their travel packs again on the way out. Wilhelm grabbed a loose tan jacket and they followed the druid into the woods. They passed through a one way portal with a sprig of lavender and ended up in the middle of more woods. Teilla fully realized that if Ilsie had not been leading, the bard would be thoroughly lost in moments.

After an hour of walking, the druid waved at the troupe to be quiet. They approached a crumbling wall of white store overgrown with weeds. Teilla watched Wilhelm stalk forward and disappear into the tall grass, his dun colored clothing blending easily into the dry vegetation. Ricardt glanced at the sky and said quietly, "I hope we can get this sorted out before dark."

"Any particular reason?" Teilla asked uneasily.

"Everything nasty sees better than us at night," Ilsie told the bard softly.

The half-elf grumbled, "That is so not comforting," and worried some more.

They crouched against the wall and waited for Wilhelm to return from scouting. Teilla tried not to fidget with limited success. Ricardt tried to find a comfortable concealed position that would still let him get up in a hurry. Only Ilsie seemed as patient as the stone wall.

After a long while of listening to the chill breeze rustle the grass and leaves, Wilhelm came back. "There's five of the dragon-kin that I could see," he whispered angrily, "And they're tormenting an elf-maid." The Ilmatari monk started wrapping his hands in russet colored strips of cloth from his belt.

Teilla sucked in a sharp breath. Ricardt frowned and said, "We need to rescue her."

"Now, now brothers," Ilsie rolled her eyes, "No sense in letting loose half drawn. How close were you able to get, Will?"

The lanky man looked sheepish and said, "Not real close. They are very alert."

"I'm guessing you didn't get close enough to hear them," the druid grumped.

Teilla looked at Wilhelm's furrowed brow and realized that the monastic was going to start arguing very soon. "Let's all get a closer look," Ricardt softly cut in a reasonable tone, "If I start sensing evil, we withdraw and attack with whatever reinforcements we can scare up."

"I'm good for that idea," the bard said firmly and gave Wilhelm a sharp look. "Although I'd like a back up plan before we budge."

"You and Ilsie stay in hiding and cast to protect the captive elf and us, Wilhelm sneaks around into good position for an ambush and I try to talk sense into them," the paladin said matter of factly.

"Is there a third option?" Teilla asked worriedly.

"I'll be fine," Ricardt smiled reassuringly and gently patted the bard's shoulder. "I've got all of you watching my back."

The half-elf carefully kept the worry off her face and nodded. Wilhelm thumped a fist to his chest and said, "You can count on us, Ricardt."

"He can if we stay quiet," Ilsie amended, "Let's go."

Wilhelm stalked out first and disappeared into the dry grass. Ricardt waited a few minutes, then started walking towards the old mausoleum. Teilla waited for Ilsie to cast a spell so that they did not disturb the plants and the two women tiptoed after the men.

Shortly they lost sight of the paladin in the tall grass and brush. The bard still felt uneasy. Something gnawed at the back of her mind, something important. For the life of her, Teilla could not pin it down. She tugged on Ilsie's tunic and whispered, "I need to cast a message to Ricardt."

The druid looked at her and shrugged, "Quickly then."

Teilla spun her hands through the message spell and murmured, "Ricardt, something isn't right. Be on your guard."

The spell allowed for a prompt soft reply and sure enough, Ricardt's voice stole into the half-elf's ears, "My shield is on my arm and my sword is loose in its scabbard. Thanks." The bard tried to stow her worry and motioned to Ilsie that they could get moving again.

A few minutes later, Teilla heard a metallic crash and Ricardt's voice shouting, "Tyr!"

Ilsie swore under her breath and started to run towards Ricardt's voice, spellcasting as she went. Teilla followed two steps behind the druid with the full intention of stopping to cast spells once she could see what was going on. As the bard pushed through the brush to the see the first combatants, she suddenly realized what had been gnawing at the back of her mind.

Wilhelm had described dragon-kin that looked elven with dark skin and light hair. If they had black dragons in the bloodline, that would explain the dark skin tone, but not the pale hair. Drow elves would though. As she first saw the battle, Teilla found her fears realized.

Ricardt fought two bat winged opponents with rapiers and light armor in the small clearing around the manor's crypt entrance. The paladin had somehow managed to put himself between the drow-dragons and a fair colored captive. He was having serious trouble keeping them off him. Both of the drow-dragons kept nicking at his armor with their slim swords, trying to skewer him, but the paladin managed to bring shield and sword around in time to meet each attack thus far. Teilla threw a grease slick spell on Ricardt's left side, hoping to limit the mobility of his foes.

Wilhelm faced off with two other drow-dragons, similarly armed and armored as the paladin's foes. Whereas Ricardt slashed and bashed with blade and shield, keeping both feet on the ground, the monk of Ilmater kicked, punched and barely seemed to touch the ground while doing so. Weeds suddenly sprang into motion underneath Wilhelm's feet. He hopped backwards out the range of the druidic spell. One of the dragon-kin avoided the grasping plants, but ended up off balance near Wilhelm. The monk seized the front of the drow-dragon's leather armor, dropped to his back and kicked the his opponent over his head towards Ricardt's end of the fracas. Wilhelm flipped back up to his feet in a moment to face off with his remaining foe.

The launched dragon-kin crashed into one of Ricardt's opponents, sending both drow-dragons into Teilla's conjured grease slick. They fell with a wet crack of snapping bones. The paladin aimed a series of slashes at his remaining foe, hoping to bring the creature down while the other two struggled to their feet.

Teilla threw the first spell that came to mind. She summoned a musical instrument, its tartan covered air bladder inflated and ready to play. She directed the bagpipes behind Ricardt's standing opponent and dropped it. The resulting cacophonous, atonal blatt caused the drow-dragon to jump. Ricardt took advantage of the distraction score a slash at the dragon-kin's neck. The marauder dodged, grinning evilly and the paladin only scored a shallow shallow cut on the side of the drow-dragon's neck. Blood rivered out of the hit. The creature's grin twisted into a grimace and he took a step in Ricardt's direction before his legs collapsed out from under him. The paladin took a step away from the dying dragon-kin and turned his attention to the two enemies in the grease slick. Only one of the mired drow-dragons struggled to regain his feet.

The bard glanced in Wilhelm's and Ilsie's direction. The druid threw a globe of icy blue flame at the drow-dragon Wilhelm faced off with. The marauder dodged the ball of flame angled for his head and the grasping weeds at his side, but could not avoid the Ilmatari monk's kick swinging for his chest.. The dragon-kin threw up his blades to block the incoming kick but Wilhelm's leg hit with enough force to connect with the drow's arms with a sharp snap of breaking bone. The creature fell back into the entangling vines and Ilsie's ball of fire moved to sit itself on his head. The drow-dragon gave an awful shriek that abruptly choked off as the vines got to him.

Ricardt's remaining foe showed little inclination to continue to fight and started to edge away, shouting, "Sharnar!" Then pitch darkness enveloped the last standing drow-dragon and the paladin.

Teilla could hear Ilsie begin spell casting again and saw Wilhelm start running towards the opaque globe of gloom. The bard pulled her wand of missiles from her belt and ran closer to where she thought Ricardt was.

The druid's spell negated the magical darkness. The last drow-dragon tried to run for a small stony out building only to find his escape blocked by Wilhelm's arrival. Ricardt took advantage of the marauder's distraction to slice at the dragon-kin's hamstrings as his brother pushed the creature back. The drow-dragon stumbled back and away from Wilhelm, right into Ricardt's sword. The dragon-kin tried to twist out of the way, but miscalculated how quickly Ricardt closed the distance. The paladin cut across and deep into the elf-kin's lower back. The drow-dragon dropped like a rag doll.

As she came closer, Teilla spied an elf with gold-bronze hair and pale tawny rose skin garbed in white and green, gagged and trussed up against a tree. From her new vantage, the bard could see the entrance to the crypts of Shaalkar Manor. Two more winged drow-dragons appeared, each with slim rapiers in hand and both clad in inky dark clothing and armor.

They blinked at the sudden influx of late afternoon sunlight and appeared to take stock of the battlefield. Teilla supposed they both saw it as a total loss because one grabbed hold of the other's arm, said something indecipherable and stepped sideways into the shadows of the mausoleum entrance. Wilhelm ran towards the vacant doorway and looked inside. He looked back and called, "They're gone."

Ricardt looked down at the dead creature at his feet and sighed, "I wish we could have taken this one alive for questioning." Wilhelm walked back to his brother to give a comforting swat on the shoulder.

Teilla knelt by the bound sun elf and undid her gag. "Are you all right, _etriel_?" she asked.

The elf took a deep breath and said shakily, "I believe so. They were most unpleasant company."

"What's your name?" the bard asked gently as she picked at the captive's bonds. "Are you hurt?"

"I am unharmed," the sun elf seemed to come out of her shocked daze as she spoke, "My name's Adraxlia."

"Can you tell me what happened?" Teilla asked as she undid the last knot on Adraxlia's bindings. "Since the two that escaped came out of that crypt over there, I'm guessing they were interested in it for some reason."

"I was looking after the entrance, yes," Adraxlia said softly as she rubbed circulation back into her hands, "But I don't know what lies within the underground chambers."

Teilla felt her curiosity perk up, "Then why watch over it?"

"The magical traps within are both formidable and hard to detect," The elf seemed to recover from her shock as she explained, "The Tomb Guard deemed it too unsafe for excavation. I was recently asked to warn casual explorers away from the catacombs. Then those fellows showed up." Adraxlia shuddered.

Ilsie came walking over from consulting with Ricardt and Wilhelm, who both now peered into the depths of Shaalkar's basement. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

"No," the sun elf said as she stood up and looked at one of the dad dragon-kin. "I think I need to tell someone about this."

"If you need an escort, I'm sure we can arrange it," the druid offered, but Adraxlia shook her head.

"I have swift and sure means to return to my fellows," The elf said gravely, "And this isn't a matter to lightly involve _N'tel'quessir_ in."

Teilla felt a pang of resentment over Adraxlia including the bard as a "not-person" and The sun elf's tacit dismissal of Ricardt, Wilhelm and Ilsie, when they had pulled the elf's bacon out of the fire. As Adraxlia got and started to hunt for her effects in the lengthening shadows, the bard walked over to Ricardt and peered into the gloom of the mausoleum. "What do you think is in there?" she asked.

"I don't know," the paladin shook his head. "What did Golden Locks over there say?"

Teilla considered Adraxlia's reactions and answered, "Basically 'It's none of your business,' but much politer. She says she doesn't know what's down there but that the Evereskan Tomb guard sealed it off. If we really feel the need to know what's down there, I suppose we could ask that Jassin about it. But usually, when elves set sentries to ruins, it is very dangerous inside."

"Very true," Ricardt turned to the bard and said, "I'd ask Jassin, but I think he's too likely to... acquire the details without permission."

Teilla chuckled, "He did seem to be the eager to please sort." She glanced over at Adraxlia and saw the sun elf pick a scroll case off one of the the dead drow-dragons.

Adraxlia leafed through the contents of the little weathered tube and came up with the one she wanted. She turned to the group and called, "Many thanks for the rescue. Should you require the services of a mage, ask for me at the Halfway Inn."

"We'll do that," Wilhelm waved. Adraxlia started reading from her scroll and disappeared in a burst of little pinpricks of light. The monk turned to everyone else and asked, "Where's the Halfway Inn?"

"Near Evereska," Ilsie answered. The druid poked at the dark clothes on one of the dead drow-dragons. "Teilla, could you come here for a moment?"

Teilla and Ricardt moseyed over to the druid. Curious, Wilhelm joined them and asked, "What's up?"

Without a word, Ilsie handed a small silver brooch to Teilla for examination. Enameled in black, some sort of sigil was etched in red on the front of the pin. Teilla softly sang spells of magic reading and magic detection. The brooch glowed softly from the cantrips and the emblem resolved itself into "shadow." _How __thoroughly__unimaginative_, the bard grumbled inwardly. Aloud she said, "It looks like an insignia. 'Shadow'- something."

Ilsie considered the news a moment, then stated, " I'm going to set a few watchers of my own over this place and tell them to notify Evereska if someone should happen to venture inside again."

Ricardt sighed, "I suppose we can't do much more than that."

"We should get home then," Ilsie said amicably, "I would like to hear what you two have been doing with yourselves. I should cast a few spells to deal with the leftovers. You all can go on ahead, I won't be long."

Ricardt and Wilhelm nodded and started walking into the woods. At least, Teilla presumed it was in the direction of the cabin. The bard hung back, curious to see what Ilsie meant by "deal with the remains." The druid softly chanted something over one of the dead dragon-kin. When she finished and spread her hands over the corpse, it rapidly degraded and rotted away until nothing remained but dark loam with an accompanying whiff of decomposition. The only objects that hinted that the patch of fresh new soil had ever been anything else were silver buttons, a dagger and a couple of belt buckles.

Teilla figured it was time for her to catch up to Ricardt and Wilhelm. The monk and the paladin busily dissected and analyzed the recent fight. As usual, Teilla found such discussions dreadfully dull and instead started mentally composing a new verse to her Ode to Miyeritar. _Perhaps I should think of a tune to go with it_, she mused.

A few minutes later, the half-elf heard Ilsie running to catch up. Teilla turned and saw the druid carrying a full knapsack. "Some of these might give a few clues as to who those creatures were," Ilsie grinned, "Care to do some object reading when we get back to my place?"

"Somehow, I think your brothers might object to that," Teilla waved back towards the crypt. Then the bard grinned, "But I'll bet your rose bushes love that fertilizer."

"Death is just a part of life," Ilsie said mildly. "Besides, there's no sense in leaving the bodies behind to let any possible compatriots of those creatures know how they fell."

"There were two that escaped," the bard pointed out.

"Which is why I'm walking behind you the entire way back home," the druid replied implacably. "I'm using magic to cover our trail in case of retaliation."

"There are days when I wish I had siblings like you," Teilla gave a little smile.

"My home is yours," Ilsie grinned, "And you still have yet to tell me of your travels."

* * *

A few days later, Teilla examined a cluster of ripening blackberries and debated if the little fruits would be worth the scratches to retrieve them for her basket. Between herself and Ilsie, they had decided that it was a good time to make blackberry jam. Like the few other times the bard helped to make jam, the day was starting off very warm.

Footsteps brought Teilla's attention to the forest. She looked around and saw a lean, dark haired figure dressed in silvery grey. She knew Ricardt and Wilhelm were out hunting dinner, but neither of them wore grey today. As the visitor came closer, the bard made out pointed ears and a scroll case on his person. "Gilnor?" she asked.

The eladrin nodded and started rummaging through the scroll tube. "I'm still under orders to wait around for a reply to this," Gilnor assured her. "Are you sure about adding those half ripe berries to your collection?"

"You need those along with the ripe ones to make good preserves," Teilla informed him as she accepted the parchment he proffered to her. "It might be a while before Ricardt and I get replies together."

The sound of two men's voices, one of them Ricardt's, came through the woods. Ricardt and Wilhelm came into view, debating who should be the one to trim back any vines on the cabin's roof. The paladin caught sight of the eladrin and waved, "A new letter?"

As Gilnor nodded, Teilla broke the seal and started to read the letter. As she do so, Ricardt and Wilhelm chatted with Gilnor about the recent encounter at Shaalkar Manor. The bard blinked at Mirandaline's account of levitating a drop of homey and the Miyeritari mages' delight at her half success. Teilla shook her head. It did not make sense to her either.

She took the letter inside Ilsie's cabin and absently waved to the druid. The dark haired woman looked up from her simmering cauldron and asked, "Are Wilhelm and Ricardt back yet?"

"They're outside talking with Gilnor," the bard gave a vague motion to the door and started to rummage around her pack for quill and parchment. _A long letter back to Mir seems to be in order_, Teilla thought, _Between Father's visit and the fracas at the crypt, a lot has happened recently. I hope she's having good luck with her __endeavors._

* * *

Author's note: Sorry it took so long to update this, but I got stuck on this chapter. Fortunately the next one should be quicker. Please leave me a note if you loved/ hate/ are mystified so far.


	11. A Favor to Ask

Disclaimer: These Realms do not belong to Wizards anymore. They would wreck them. These be my Realms. May they live long!!

* * *

Kaeldin sat at his old burn-scarred desk in his old teaching office and carefully studied his spellbook. _A few cantrips to conjure up clouds of smoke and mist, a spell for force missiles, lightening, an electricity net_, the sylvan elf thought with a chuckle, _It is almost as if I am gearing up for battle rather than a lesson in force manipulation_.

After the experiment with the drop of honey, Kaeldin and Corythin had decided that they would see how Mirandaline fared with the basic meditative training assigned to wizards learning the High Art. Perhaps it was she was so young or perhaps being a psion had something to do with it, but Mirandaline took to the fine observation exercises and meditations as easily and determinedly as any apprentice High Mage five centuries her senior.

_At least Mir's resolve is a much quieter sort than her mother's_, Kaeldin thought wryly. Amaria Sparrowhawk had indeed figured out where her daughter had gone when the girl stepped through Kraanfhoar's threshold. In fact, the deceased sylvan archer was probably still trying to get inside. Even Mithias, the drow weapons master, tried to avoid Mir's mother when he came and went. Every time he crossed paths with Amaria, a shouting match broke out between the two and they had to be dragged apart. According to Mithias, he had put up with quite enough verbal abuse during his lifetime and was not interested in more.

As Mirandaline kept working at the beginning exercises, Kaeldin started to feel his hope revive again. He closed his spell book and sighed. He tried to bury the little spark of hope under the reality of the previous six students. _There is still every __likelihood__ that Mir is far too young to learn the High Art_, he thought as he left his office for the amphitheater. _Besides, sharp as little Mir is, she still is not a wizard and has never done anything to tap the Weave before_.

Usually at around this time, Mithias worked Psittia and Mir through weapons work. Kaeldin walked through Kraanfhoar's magelit forest of hallways. Some thoughtful person, probably Lilleen, had changed the color of the magelight to a sunny yellow rather than the more usual bluish white. The sylvan elf stepped into the practice arena and looked around for the dark elven lore mistress.

Lilleen, along with Corythin and Sophon, sat in one of the middle tiers. Kaeldin looked around at the other spectators in the amphitheater. Since Mithias had taken an interest in Mirandaline's weapons practice, it had become more common to see unknown visitors to the place. The Bralani warrior with flame colored eyes, the quiet dark elf male with claret colored eyes, the tall drow female who bore a strong resemblance to Mithias and the pair of genial sun elves were all fairly regular visitors. Kaeldin did not mind the new visitors at all. Chatting with them certainly relieved a good deal of the boredom he had garnered since the last student. The sylvan elf mage made his way down the steps to sit next to Lilleen.

Today, Mithias worked Mirandaline through some sort of drill that involved a lot of dodging around himself and Psittia with wooden weapons in hand. Kaeldin watched as the participants sped up until he had difficulty determining whether or not psionics or magic were in use. Mirandaline tripped Psittia up and skittered away from Mithias as the drow closed in on the girl. It looked like Mir was going to get away and clear when the young elf froze with a look of surprised bewilderment on her face.

Unfortunately for her, Mithias, also quick on his feet, closed with the girl and had a strike aimed for her arms. Mirandaline recovered form her stupor enough to stumble backwards, but she was off balance even to Kaeldin's untrained eye. The weapons instructor stopped and waited for Mir to get her feet back under her before asking with deceptive calm, "Mirandaline, why did you freeze? There wasn't anything there."

Kaeldin felt Lilleen tense up beside him and he looked over at Mir. Mithias almost never called Mirandaline by her full name. Instead he seemed to find "girl" good enough for everyday use and "Mir" for when she did something especially well. Psittia was always "spellcaster" without any variation aside from Mithias's tone. Kaeldin felt fairly certain that Mir knew the weapons master was warming up a tirade.

Mirandaline looked Mithias in the eye and said clearly, "There was something there. I passed through it."

Kaeldin blinked. The few times that Mithias did shout at Mir, the young elf had not spoken up at all. As the weapons master glared at the unexpected interruption, Mir continued quickly, "It felt like... I don't know, cool liquid steel."

"There is no such thing," Mithias growled at the girl.

"I felt it and passed right through it," Mir shot back. "You asked why I stopped and I answered."

Kaeldin quickly let his eyes refocus to see magic. The silver strands of the mythal became visible to the sylvan elf. In short order, what happened became apparent. He thought, _Best to make sure though..._

"Your pardon Mithias," Kaeldin called mildly. He fought to keep the excitement out of his voice as he continued, "Would you please let Mir show where she felt strange?"

The drow fighter narrowed his eyes at the mage, while Mir walked past and put her hands in front of her. She stopped and said, "It's here."

Kaeldin felt his breath catch. To his magic attuned sight, Mir held both hands in one of the leylines of Kraanfhoar's mythal. From the small sounds next to him, Kaeldin gathered that Lilleen, Sophon and Corythin also made the same discovery. _She sensed magic_, the thought fluttered unbidden across Kaeldin's mind. _We need to see if she can push at it next._

"Would it be fair to say that there actually is something there?" Mithias's rough voice cut into the sylvan elf's shock.

"There is something there, young Mir," Corythin said in a somewhat strained voice. "It will not harm you."

Mithias glared at the spectating mages one last time before turning back to Mirandaline's lesson. Kaeldin noticed that both Psittia and the drow weapons master tried to herd Mir back into the leyline's influence. No matter what they tried, Mir refused to go through the mythal support again.

The drow dismissed Psittia and Mir early and went over to talk to the Bralani. Psittia and Mir walked over towards Kaeldin Corythin, Lilleen and Sophon. "... So when a mythal is raised, you get feeder lines leading out from where the Rite of Myriad was cast," The battle mage busily tried to explain to the young elf what happened as they came closer. "Did you see it?"

"I didn't _see_ anything," Mirandaline said grumpily, "I _felt_ it."

"Tactile sensing?" Lilleen asked, then shrugged nonchalantly, "Why not?"

"Kaeldin, you have a few of those lightening spells prepared for today, correct?" Corythin asked. The sylvan elf nodded and the former High Mage continued, "Good. Mir, we ware going to do the Jakob's loop exercise for your warm up today."

Mir nodded and asked, "Can I get some food first?"

"Sure," Sophon got up and gestured out of the practice arena. "Anything in particular?"

"The wheat and pine nut fry cakes?" the young elf asked hopefully.

Lilleen snorted, "You ought to start compiling a recipe book, Sophon." The three of them headed in the direction of the kitchens.

Kaeldin smiled. The diviner and lore mistress had both taken to Mirandaline like a long lost niece. He couldn't blame them, the girl looked and acted like the young students the two high mages used to teach. He also found that he liked the girl.

In the moments she took for herself, he knew that Mir managed to explore every nook and cranny of the tower, including a few places Kaeldin had not thought of reaching. He had caught the girl climbing to the top of some of the hallway arches without the aid of magic. She particularly liked the ones with open latticework and would sometimes read books while hidden in the stonework.

_My rock garden could use something different_, the mage thought as he and Corythin walked in companionable silence to the classroom they used for Mir's lessons in energy manipulation. _Perhaps the next piece I shape should be something climbable. For that matter, maybe I should take up climbing as well, dignity be damned._

"Feeling slightly euphoric?" Corythin's voice gently broke into Kaeldin's thoughts.

"Not really," the sylvan elf tried to look nonchalant. The other mage's arched eyebrow told Kaeldin the he fail miserably. He sighed, "All right, all right! Hope manages to spring eternal! Happy now?"

Before Corythin could answer, a familiar harsh voice cut across their conversation, "Well, I do hate to pour acid on that little spring of yours..." Both mages stopped. Kaeldin turned and found Mithias and his bralani friend walking up to them.

"We have some news you ought to hear," the bralani said in a lilting tenor voice. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"The classroom," Corythin said. "If I know Sophon, he is going to take a little while with those fry cakes of his."

"Right," Mithias stalked past both mages for the classroom. Corythin looked at Kaeldin and shrugged. The eladrin and the High mages followed the weapons master into the large chamber. No desks sat in neat rows in this room. An elaborate pentacle set into a mithral ring took up the center of the floor and recent scorch marks marred the smooth surface of the pale grey stone walls.

Since Corythin and Kaeldin did not sit during Mir's practices, no chairs sat along the walls. Mithias walked in and grumbled something about "no cover." Kaeldin smirked, "Usually, we just cast the appropriate protection spells and then play catch with lightning."

"Smart mouth," the drow growled.

"Enough qu'el'saruk," the bralani said firmly, "I don't think I've introduced myself properly. I'm Faenllach."

Kaeldin gave a short bow in greeting, then asked, "What brings you two here?"

"Gilnor brought back a tale about some place called Shaalkar Manor," Faenllach explained. "We think that it used to be one of the training enclaves for Duskblade mages during your time."

"I am going to guess that you you want to pick our memories for information on the place," Corythin looked carefully at Faenllach. "While we knew there were hidden places to teach the assassins of Aryvaandar, we never knew any exact locations and only had really vague hints as to what else went on in them."

"And those hints were... ?" the bralani asked.

"Darkness," Kaeldin said slowly. "One of our spies died trying to sneak into one of those retreats. His spirit told us that he had been trapped by a constricting web of darkness. It crushed the breath out of him and seemed magical in nature but was not of the Weave."

"Given the recent series of unfortunate events around Evereska, there's a possibility that they might have been delving into the Shadow Weave those millenea past," Faenllach said worriedly.

"And you are coming to us, why?" Kaeldin frowned at the bralani. "I am stuck here and cannot do anything beyond the tower grounds."

"They want the girl," Mithias broke in. "They want the girl to scout out the individuals who broke into that ruin."

The sylvan elf could feel his temper rising, "And you agreed to this?"

"Don't be stupid," the drow shot back. "If I had, she'd be gone now."

Kaeldin, Mithias, please settle down for a moment," Corythin interrupted. He turned his attention back to Faenllach, "Let us hear this story from the beginning, in full, and then decide if we should fly off the handle. Please continue."

"Right. One of the Olin Gisae ran afoul of a group of half dragons breaking one of those Duskblade strongholds," the bralani explained. "She thinks that they managed to find something, but since no one here knows what was in those little fortresses, we could not tell her what these 'drow-dragons' might have found.

"We were able to track the two surviving culprits down, though," Faenllach took a deep breath and continued, "Then we ran into trouble. We couldn't get close enough to get a good idea of what mischief they are up to."

A frown flitted across Corythin's dark face, "Is there some reason you could not approach these creatures by mundane means or magic?"

The eladrin huffed a sigh, "They have very good scrying shields and the nature of the Plane of Shadow makes my kind stand out enough that we have a tough time being inconspicuous. Add that to the fact that not many eladrin are any good at being sneaky..."

"I get the idea," Kaeldin grumbled. "Are there no other Tel'Quessir you could send?"

"I'd prefer a dark elf," Faenllach spread his hands in apology. "Most of the followers of Lord Larethian's daughter are busy on some project of hers. If the plane in question weren't so close to the Prime, I would have more than a few of the departed who might volunteer."

"Starting with me," Mithias added.

"Not you, you're still on probation," The bralani rolled his fire opaline eyes, "We had that conversation when Lolth went dormant." Mithias grinned evilly in response and Kaeldin got the feeling that it was an old issue between the two.

"Would she be able to return to us?" Kaeldin asked. _If she can, I might have a chance of fulfilling my oaths this time around._

Faenllach shrugged and spread his hands, "I'm no fortune teller."

"I think the girl could make it there and back," Mithias said carefully. "She's wary enough and sharp enough to know when to get out. The girl is still pretty lousy when it comes to hand to hand, but she's better than when she started. Someone taught her to wrestle and throw pretty well and I'm not entirely sure how she learned..."

"She lived very close to a monastery of some human deity," Kaeldin explained.

"That would do it," Faenllach agreed. "Do I get to ask her if she wants to make the attempt?"

Kaeldin considered the request. After the display in weapons practice today, he thought that Mirandaline's chances of successfully learning to function as a caster in a circle of High Mages had vastly improved. The sylvan elf noticed Corythin watching him carefully and wished that the _telmiirkara neshyrr_ had not stolen his ability to send his thoughts towards his fellow Selu'taar. Kaeldin sighed and finally said, "Give us a few days to at least see where young Mir can go with the leyline sensing."

"A few days for you or for me?" The bralani chuckled. "I'll see you later then."

Faenllach turned and left for the hallway. Kaeldin expected Mithias to do the same, but the drow weapons master lingered. "I'm going to have to shift the girl's training somewhat if this goes through," Mithias said mildly.

Corythin frowned suspiciously, "Shift how?"

"It won't hurt her any," Mithias folded his arms over his chest and glared at the two mages. "More... impromptu combat. Using her environment to her advantage. Using her psionics with her environment to her advantage. Things that would potentially help her on this spying jaunt if she opts to do it."

"You think she can do what Faenllach asks then?" Kaeldin asked.

"She has a better chance than the other possibles," Mithias huffed grouchily, "And I'll make sure a healer is around if things get out of hand. The girl's mother would never let me hear the end of it if something happened."

Kaeldin chuckled, "I take it you've met Amaria Sparrowhawk."

"The she-wolf catches me nearly every time I come here," Mithias growled. "If I have to hear one more tirade about how I better not hurt her little girl or else, I'm going to ask the eladrin to go drop me back in the Demonweb for some peace and quiet."

Kaeldin snickered as Corythin laughed, "I'm sure. As far as I am concerned, you can change Mirandaline's martial training. I do not think any of us has the gall to tell you how to do your job."

The weapons master snorted and stalked out of the room, leaving the two mages alone in the classroom. Corythin asked, "So, how do you feel about Mir possibly leaving?"

"Well," Kaeldin heaved a sigh, "At the core, Mir is a psion and psions get better through experience and trials. She may have to leave here to figure out how to manipulate the High Art on her own, if she ever does."

"You may well be right," the other mage agreed.

_Funny how I still think of Corythin as older than me when I still live and he does not_, the errant thought crossed Kaeldin's mind. He caught Corythin watching him again and wondered if the _telmiirkara neshyrr_ truly had taken all of the telempathy of the mage circle away. The sylvan elf hastily cleared his throat, "I suppose we should familiarize young Mir with the Rituals of Solitude."

"And the basic theory of the Rituals of Complement," Corythin added. "Remember, she may have to do High Magic in concert with someone else to break the planar forbidding."

"You are both wrong," Sophon said bluntly as he walked in. "I bet young Mir will manage to do it because she wants it badly enough."

"Point taken," Kaeldin grinned, "She certainly did to start manipulating lightning." Once Mir realized that a non-solid, like a drop of honey or water could be levitated with a swiftly orbiting force, she soon started using it for the defensive electric spell Kaeldin cast to let her warm up.

Mir came padding in and looked around at Kaeldin, Corythin and Sophon. "Did I miss something?" she asked curiously.

"After the warm up, young Mir," Corythin said firmly.

"Can I stand inside the loop this time?" the small elf asked carefully.

She is up to something Kaeldin thought, but waved the girl closer. The defensive loop curtained down rather than shooting out from the caster, so Mir would be safe from the initial discharge. She stepped next to Kaeldin and took hold of the mage's wrist. He looked askance at the girl. She grinned up at him mischievously, "Lilleen and I are testing an idea. It won't interfere with the casting, will it?"

"As long as you do not pull," Kaeldin wondered what the lore mistress was trying for. _I cannot cast in a circle, the connection is gone. I can barely feel Mir's presence and she is standing right next to me!_

Mirandaline took a couple of deep even breaths and closed her eyes. The fern scent that always accompanied the girl's psionics began to seep into the room. Kaeldin sighed and began to cast the electric net.

As he waved his hands through the gestures and quietly recited the simple spell, he felt a very faint humming intermittently in the back of his mind. When he finished the spell and completed the last hand pass through the air, the defensive electrical loop floated up and then curtained down in a smooth, translucent blue-white curtain.

Kaeldin felt his jaw drop. He could hear Corythin gasp in surprise and Sophon start to chuckle. _Mir's been trying to achieve this effect for weeks now_, the sylvan elf thought in bewilderment. He looked down at the young elf. She still held his wrist and continued to breath evenly, almost trance-like in her concentration. The intermittent hum continued in the back of Kaeldin's head. He suddenly wondered what it would sound like had he not undergone the rite of transformation.

_Enough of my woolgathering_, he thought gloomily and gently shook Mirandaline out of her trance. As she opened her eyes, the electrical barrier abruptly lost its form as a smooth curtain to the multiple crackling bolts that was the usual manifestation of that particular spell.

Sophon sat down on the stone floor and laughed harder. Corythin walked over to the dark elven diviner, sat next to him and started t o chortle too. Kaeldin felt a grin tug at the corners of his lips. _Maybe hope does spiring eternal_, he thought.

Mirandaline had the look of a fox that found the keys to the hen house. "All right, young lady," Kaeldin said sternly, "What did you do?"

"I followed your intentions to shape the magic rather than waiting to shape the effect," The young elf grinned. Then she paled and swayed on her feet. "It's harder than it looks."

Kaeldin steadied the girl and glanced at Sophon and Corythin. Sophon recovered from his fit of mirth enough to stand up. The dark elven diviner offered a hand to Corythin. The former Grand Mage accepted the help up and walked towards Kaeldin and Mir. Corythin assayed Mir in a glance and said briskly, "I think that's enough energy manipulation for one day, little one. There are plenty of theoretical studies that we will hand you today. Sophon, can you find something to make sure young Mir does not collapse from exhaustion?"

"He lived for a millennium and has been dead for ten," Sophon said sotto voce to Mirandaline, "He still cannot boil water without burning it."

Mir giggled tiredly and followed the diviner out. "Lilleen wanted to speak to you two," Sophon called back to Kaeldin and Corythin. Then he shooed the younger elf out.

"I suppose Lilleen wants to tell us exactly what she told Mir to try," Corythin commented.

"Yes, actually I do," the lore mistress strode into the conjuring chamber. "Did Mir suddenly improve?"

Both mages nodded and Lilleen continued with an edge of excitement, "When I talked to her after the weapons practice, she told Sophon and I that the mythal line felt like 'intentions given solid form.' Mir said she could feel _us_ in the strand."

"As well she should," Corythin said slowly, " We all put a good deal of ourselves into the weaving of this place."

"And she has been hanging around us all enough to have acquired a feel for us individually," Kaeldin said with dawning understanding. "That must be why she wanted to hold to me while I cast. She senses it through touch and needed to get close enough."

"Could she..." Corythin started.

"No," Lilleen interrupted, shaking her head. "Mir tried to push that strand around. She said it was like trying to push a boulder uphill with a feather. It may be that she needs a looser mythal to work with or the High Art needs to be in motion for her to shape it."

Kaeldin sighed, "The more I think about it, the more it would appear that Mir should go on that mission of Faenllach's."

"What mission of Faenllach's?" Lilleen asked warily. Corythin recounted the bralani's scouting proposal and Mithias's assessment of Mir's chances. The Lore mistress frowned for a while before saying, "We have to present the option to Mir."

Kaeldin blinked. _I thought she would put up more resistance to her "niece" leaving._ Lilleen had quite clearly taken to Mirandaline and the girl happily returned the favor.

"Do not give me that look you two," the lore mistress said testily, "I know as well as you that Mir wants out of here very badly. This seems like a good chance for her. Who knows, she might run into one of the wandering Selu'taar of Evereska or Evermeet."

There are not very many of those anymore," Corythin reminded, "Not after that business with the Netherese."

"Well, she cannot very well try manipulating the High Art with any of us," Lilleen fired back.

"You are all spirits and I am incapacitated as far as circle casting is concerned," Kaeldin noted. "Besides, the elf whose opinion really matters here is Mir."

"Then why are we standing around here?" Lilleen threw her hands up in the air and started off for the study room in a swirl of blue skirts. Corythin and Kaeldin sighed in unison and followed the dainty lore mistress.

They trooped into the study to find Mirandaline sitting at the plain table with an open tome written in Seldruin in front of her. At a glance, Kaeldin could see that it was a theory book on portal creation. _She really does want out_, the sylvan elf thought, Me too.

Sophon glanced up from looking over Mirandaline's shoulder. A moment later, Mir looked up as well. "How fares the studying?" Lilleen asked.

"It goes all right," Mir sighed. "You wouldn't happen to know where we could scare up a living High Mage, would you?"

"One in the outer planes?" Lilleen smiled, "I do not know of anyone off the top of my head. But perhaps you might run across one."

Mir sighed heavily, "None around here then."

"There was a bralani at your weapons practice today," Corythin started. "He wants you to do him a favor."

The young psion cocked her head to the side and the senior mage continued, "He would like you to scout out a group of half dragons on the plane of Shadow."

Mirandaline's mist colored eyebrows shot up as Corythin relayed why Faenllach asked for her. The girl remained quiet when he finished.

"This is your decision, Mir," Kaeldin said gently, "You will be able to come back if you wish."

"Will this help the Olin Gisae?" the psion finally asked in a small voice.

Corythin nodded slowly. Kaeldin and Lilleen shared a concerned look. She has had bad encounters with other elves before... Kaeldin thought worriedly, but Mirandaline's answer broke into his thoughts.

"I'll do it," Mirandaline said quietly. The girl's expression shifted to something resolute. "What supplies will I have available to me?"

* * *

Author's note: And now things really start to get moving. On a lore note, since I really didn't explain it, the Olin Gisae are an elven organization of spellcasters set as guards to dangerous ruins.

Anyway, since you have made it this far gentle reader, please let me know what you think of it thus far.


	12. Shadowy Threads

Disclaimer: Bah, this is an alternate reality fic now, thanks to Wizard's shortsighted pantheon pruning and oversimplification. I do not own the Realms, much as I would like to.

--)--------

Mirandaline stood in the courtyard of Kraanfhoar with Kaeldin, Lilleen, Corythin and Sophon, waiting for Faenllach. The Arvandor side of the old Miyeritari tower was shrouded in its customary thick fog. She never saw more than a few yards ahead at the best of times. _I suppose it's a mercy not to see one's afterlife before getting there in the conventional manner, but I still wish I could see mother,_ Mir thought sadly, _Even if it's only her waving in the distance._

The dark-wood elf opened her senses and quested out for other elves as the cool damp air hung still about her. Kaeldin still registered as barely there, but through familiarity the psion could feel snatches of his moods now and then. He seemed on edge and resigned at the same time. Lilleen was a much easier read. Icy slick fear and warm fuzzy love surged against each other underneath a muffling facade of smooth calm. Sophon and Corythin hid prickly worry for both Mir and Kaeldin.

Further out, like stars hidden by the fog, two separate points of love and worry waited as well. One of them, unless Mir misremembered, felt like her mother. The other had a ghost of familiarity about it, like a half remembered melody. It felt a little frustrating to not be able to place it.

Mir put the puzzle out of her mind as an eladrin approached the edge of her perception. She hastily drew her sensing back in. Kaeldin's last remaining soul spark acted as a filter against his own eladrin essence when Mir sensed him. True eladrin burned at her perceptions. It hurt, but trying to explain exactly how it hurt was akin to explaining birdsong to the deaf.

Faenllach and Mithias came into view from the Arvandor side of the pervasive mist. Mirandaline was unsurprised that she had not felt the weapon master's approach. She never felt his connection to anyone else, not even to her. The stocky bralani was dressed and armed for travel.

Mir glanced down at the pack at her feet, the tops of her scuffed boots and the worn bottom edge of her long green coat. Between her knack for traveling light and prepared for most terrain and Lilleen's masterful job of finding useful magical items, the young elf felt reasonably prepared for whatever was on the Shadow plane. The one thing missing from the rucksack was weapons. Mithias had informed Kraanfhoar's residents that he would select appropriate blades and a bow for Mir's expedition. Sure enough, the drow carried a parcel wrapped in oilcloth.

"I... scrounged these up," Mithias said with a smug smirk. Mirandaline instantly wondered what the weapon master had stolen and from where. Mithias unwrapped a short recurve bow and a half full quiver of arrows. "It should have enough pull for you, girl." he said briskly. "All the arrows have been enchanted to return after they hit. We can't put too many heavily enchanted items on you..."

"Else people will get suspicious," Mir finished, sighing. "Yes, everyone's told me."

"Which is why I tracked this down," the qu'el'saruk grinned wider. "Don't let Gwynharwyf see you with it." He unwrapped an inwardly curved, single edged knife in a sheath. Mithias pulled the short blade out. It was made of black steel with an edge of icy blue.

"It's a psionic blade of some kind," the drow explained as he sheathed the knife and handed it to Mir, "With an adaptive enchantment on it. It suits itself to whoever has it for an extended period of time. I couldn't find anything else I'd feel comfortable with giving you, since you are far more likely to hurt yourself than your foes with anything longer than your forearm."

Mirandaline took the curved knife and strapped it around her middle. Mithias took one look at her and readjusted the weapon belt until the blade sat horizontally across her back. Feeling absurdly like a little girl getting ready for her first day at school, Mir turned to Kaeldin and the others, "I will come back, you know."

Pale faced, Kaeldin nodded silently. Mirandaline could feel an icy flutter of the mage's worry, as light as moth wings. Lilleen stepped forwards and gave Mir a fierce hug. The dark elf's hope and worry roiled against each other. Mir hugged the loremistress back. "I promise I'll come back," she said into Lilleen's sliver white hair.

Lilleen released the younger elf and murmured, "I know you will try." Louder, she added, "Good luck, Mirandaline of Whizban. May Corellon see you safely through your journey." Mir gave a nervous smile in reply and turned to follow Faenllach out.

She looked back and saw Kaeldin and Corythin waving. Lilleen clasped her hands together and did not bother to keep the worry off her face. Sophon waggled his fingers through a quick spell and the diviner's voice whispered through the psion's head, _I stuffed a useful book into your pack. Good luck little one._

Mir waved back and continued to follow Faenllach, taking care to keep the bralani in sight. He stopped and waited a moment to let the smaller elf catch up. "Scout Sparrowhawk, ready to make the hop into the Astral?" he asked. The psion nodded and he took a solid hold of her wrist. "Hold on tight, _etriel_!"

The mist rippled, twisted and closed around them. Mir felt a brief sensation of floating before the mist cleared to reveal a featureless space, punctuated by indistinct waves of pale colors here and there. She stood on a rolling plain of pale golden yellow, like a field ready for harvest, but the grasses stood half the height of a normal wheat field. Muted light glowed from the rosy blue sky all at once, like the moment just before daybreak and a bitterly cold wind cut across the plain. Mir looked at Faenllach and the bralani's form seemed sharply outlined in comparison to the surroundings. Nervously, she asked, "Where to?"

"This way," the eladrin said as he started jogging towards a pale green swath on the horizon. "The portal to Balefire isn't far, but stay close. Githanyanki sometimes hunt in this area."

Mir shuddered and quickly followed. If rumor was true, githanyanki made for relentless foes.

They ran until they came to a dilapidated low stone building. Faenllach drew his shortsword and peeked in the entrance. Mirandaline swiftly pulled her new short bow out, strung it and set an arrow to the string. She followed the bralani inside the little structure. The roof of the grey stone building was riddled with holes outlined with tufts of the astral grasses. In the odd light, she could make out a staircase leading down from the entryway into the ground.

Faenllach led the way down the dark stairs. Mir stowed the bow and arrow and drew her new fighting knife before padding softly down after him. Her vision slipped from light to dark and everything appeared outlined in starlight. Another small antechamber sat at the bottom of the stairs, as plain and featureless as the room above, save for one detail. An archway all filled in with inky black to Mir's darkvision took up space on the far side of the room. The shadows seemed to get darker there. "It's an open portal, little one," The bralani said softly. "All you need to do is keep your eyes and ears open for a little while. You have those contacts memorized, right?"

Mirandaline nodded, "The Emerald Kiss. Find drow-dragons. Stay out of trouble."

"That's the gist of it," Faenllach affirmed. "Good luck, _etriel_."

Mir nodded again and stepped through the portal before she could get any more nervous.

With another swooping sensation of freefall, Mirandaline stepped through the portal into another, larger room. A bored looking drow elf sat a desk with a ledger in front of him. "Name and your business in Balefire," He said in a dull monotone.

"Mir Veldrin," She gave the surname Mithias had told her to give. According to the weapons master, it was one common to the Underdark. "I'm here to rest and resupply."

The clerk scribbled it down in his ledger, "Hold out your arm, mistress." He pulled a drawer open and fumbled for something inside.

Mir held out her arm. The drow pulled out a wand and waved it over her forearm. A swirling sigil of blue appeared on her brown skin and began to glow with a faint azure light. "Any good places to eat around here?" she asked.

The drow looked up, startled out of his ennui. "The Purple Lantern's pretty good. Two streets to the left when you walk out."

Mir nodded and started up the stairs. Bright red lanterns lit the black stone steps every two score of steps. The shadows seemed very opaque, even when she used her darkvision. When she finally got the top of the stairs, Mir found herself in a wide hallway with a vaulted ceiling and several doorways leading out of the great hall. A large set of double doors stood open at one end of the hallway. _It's probably better to start moving before someone pegs me as easy pickings_, Mir thought and started walking towards the large open doors.

She noticed a few groups of people coming through the various archways. Most of these groups seemed to have at least one person who could see in the dark. One group even had two drow elves with three human traveling companions.

As she walked out of the building, Mir got her first look at the City of Lanterns. The sky appeared an odd shade of dark purple, one of the hues only seen between dusk and full dark. Bright lanterns in a rainbow of colors bravely tried to keep the worst of the shadows at bay. The patches of darkness almost seemed alive in how they came so sharply against the lit areas, only to fall back on itself.

The young archer stepped lightly down the street and realized something else that seemed out of place. No one noticed one lone elf with dark skin and pale hair. More than a few drow elves walked the street towards various errands mixed in with humans and other creatures. It was an oddly heartening feeling that resulted in a pang of homesickness for Whizban and her traveling companions' presence.

The Purple Lantern was marked out by its namesake, a brightly lit, multifaceted violet glass lantern. Mir walked inside to find the interior warmly lit with amber lamps and the air smelling of sweet fried peppers and onions. Most of the people sitting around the tables were humans or drow elves, with the occasional oddball thrown in for good measure.

The archer ordered and ale and a bowl of stew and avoided eye contact with the lone shadar-kai at the end of the bar. The shadow fey were always bad news. Mirandaline mentally reviewed what Faenllach had told her as she daintily nibbled at her food and drink.

The drow-dragons were supposed to have stolen Crown Wars shadow magic. No one knew what they might have taken, but all the high mages of Kraanfhoar thought that it might have something to do with the Shadow Weave. Mir could remember a few "shadow sorcerers" who had started to trickle into Whizban's Spell and Herb Festival. She supposed that one fought them the same way as a Weave spellcaster.

The house the eladrin's agent had scouted out sat in a district close to Nightcrawler Canyon. The initial report said that the area was "shady." Mithias had snarled over the agent's choice of adjective. Mir agreed with him. "Shady" would describe the entire plane. In any case, the agent said that they seemed to operate out of a potion shop in the area. The drow-dragons also appeared to prefer to alter their shapes to pure drow when going out and about. Mir remembered something about them having varying degrees of "dragon-ness" to them.

Go into the shop, browse, come back and eavesdrop, the dark-wood elf thought. She carried a small psionic spystone in addition to the more mundane methods of a crystal glass and a small mirror. Her teachers were quick to point out that those who relied heavily on magic to shield them often forgot the simple little ways around barriers that did not involve anything arcane.

To guard her against more mundane ambushes, Mithias's new weapons regime had involved the drow fighter sneaking up on Mir after classes, before she came out of reverie, during mealtimes... any time he thought he could get close enough to her to swat her upside the head. His reasoning was that in Balefire it would not be a swat, but a knife. A few times he chased after her until it became grossly apparent the Mir knew more about avoiding and misleading a pursuer than he did.

Mir paid for her meal and softly padded out onto Balefire's shadowy streets. She started to make her way to the potion shop, making sure to take a more roundabout route than necessary. She hoped it appeared slightly furtive. The drow mercenaries who come to Whizban always look like they're afraid of getting caught at something, she thought nervously, Even though no one's ever gone out of their way to bother them. I suppose they think of it as normal.

She finally got to the little potion shop. The place looked like its neighboring buildings, the shop on the bottom floor, presumably a workshop in back and living quarters above. It sat between a tannery and a smithy. Mir swallowed her nerves and almost missed the string of bells on the door. She carefully opened it slowly. The bells gave a tinny whisper of noise as the dark-wood elf stepped inside.

As Mir did so, she felt something as light as spider webs but insubstantial pass over her. It reminded the psion of passing through the mythal support a while back, but on a much smaller scale. It felt different too, cold and greasy. _Given enough time in contact with the magic, I might be able to figure out what it does, but it'd seem odd to stand in a doorway with one's eyes closed_, she thought as she surveyed the interior.

Shelves of little bottles and vials labeled in cramped script stood behind a counter. A florid faced drow male came through a curtained doorway and asked brusquely, "Can I be of assistance, mistress?"

"Do you have any smokesticks and thunderstones, master?" Mir asked meekly._ Maybe he'll get thrown off by the submissive behavior_.

The male sniffed and a sneer appeared over his bland features. _Well, I suppose I walked into that reaction_, Mir sighed internally. _Well, let's see how far I can run with it..._ "Please, my master sent me to get them," she said with a touch of worry. _Please let him think that I'm just an errand girl and nothing more_.

He gave her another disdainful sniff and walked into the back room. Mirandaline waited until the drow's back was turned and then dew a small gem pouch out of her coat. Anyone watching would assume that she was a novice bargainer readying her payment. Mir sighed and got ready to part with one of the larger gems. _It would seem off if I push it with the haggling. At least no one at home will ever hear about it. I'd never survive the embarrassment._

As the dark-wood elf rummaged around in the little leather pouch, she carefully levitated a perfectly round, smoothly polished sphere of smoky quartz the size of a silver piece down using as little psionics as possible. Once it hit the ground, she sent it rolling around behind the counter. The light ferny scent leftover from the mental exertion just managed to dissipate when the shopkeeper came back with the smokesticks and thunderstones.

They haggled for a little while before Mir parted with one of her better sapphires and walked out with her purchases. As she passed through the wards again, she carefully quested towards her quartz marble. Mirandaline could still feel it out with her psionics. Time to find someplace quiet and secluded for a bit, she thought.

After putting a few blocks between her and the potion shop, Mir walked into a small boarding house, snuck past the front desk and padded up the stairs. She found a mostly empty broom closet on one of the upper floors and crouched inside with the door open, ever so slightly.

The psion "felt" for her bit of smoky quartz and soon established a connection with it under the counter in the potion shop. Mir pulled a second, identical stone marble from her coat pocket and focused on its sister stone through it. Her mind's eye showed Mir a rack of potion vials and bottles from the perspective of a mouse.

_Move_, Mir ordered it. After a moment, the quartz in the shop sprouted little insectoid legs and began tiptoeing along the bottom shelves. The dark-wood elf directed the spystone towards the back rooms of the potion shop.

It did not take long to figure out the mouse-like perspective. Through the crystal, Mir could hear voices coming from one of the rooms. She sent the little spystone skittering closer to the sounds, taking care to keep the tiny device close to the sideboards. I wonder if they have mice on the Shadow Plane, she thought with amusement.

The voices came from a room with a desk, a few chairs, some shelves of books and ledgers and two drow standing in it. Mirandaline supposed that it served as an office. Through the spystone marble, she could hear two voices. One belonged to the shopkeeper and the other drow carried the pronounced clipped tones of the Underdark in his voice.

"Any interesting custom today, Dureth?" The Underdark accent asked briskly.

"Not this time," Dureth replied in a bored tone. "A few of those shadow touched humans, some gullible apprentice and one mage."

"Tell me about the mage," Underdark ordered coldly. Mir, hidden in her closet a few blocks away, slowly let out the breath she had been holding as quietly as possible. She was not sure if sounds around her carried through the spystone, but she did not wish to chance discovery.

From the spystone's hidden vantage, Mir could see Dureth shrug. "A human, no illusions about him and my wards didn't detect transmutation magic on him," Irritation leaked into the shopkeeper's voice, "No I haven't seen any more of those cursed whatsits, so don't bother asking."

"Do not patronize me with familiarity," The other voice hissed.

Mirandaline sent the spystone nearer to get a look at Dureth's guest. Dressed for rough travel, the other drow did not look remarkable or memorable. _If I ever learned how to make psicrystals, I'd be able to see if Underdark there has dragon blood_, she thought ruefully.

"I need you to hold these for a few months," Underdark set two flat strongboxes on Dureth's desk. "I wouldn't try opening them, were I you."

The shopkeeper looked at the plain lockboxes as if they were angry vipers. "They aren't going to melt the shelves this time, are they?"

"You don't sound grateful for the tasks that Patron Father Zammzt sets for you," Underdark noted in a bland tone.

Through the spystone, Mir saw Dureth go abruptly still. "I am honored with whatever tasks the Patron Father assigns to me."

"Good, because I'd hate to see him send the fallen Imphraezel to deliver the next task to you," Underdark continued in that same bland voice.

Dureth paled and nodded. Mir wondered why. The shopkeeper took the two boxes gingerly, opened something to the side of the desk and set the strongboxes in it. "Was there anything else?" Dureth asked in a resigned voice.

"I may need some of your wares," Underdark smirked smugly. Mir kept the spystone motionless at the sideboard as the two drow walked out. She did her best to commit the look of the Underdark drow to memory given the low vantage.

Mir felt her contact with the little scrying device start to waver. _I need to hurry_, she thought and sent the opaque quartz marble scuttling along the sideboards, looking for a particular small room. When the spystone found the potion maker's lavatory, she used the little marble to look around the place.

Luckily for her, it had a side on the exterior wall and a small window above the indoor latrine to act as ventilation. She directed the spystone to the windowsill and took a quick look at the locks on it. _At least they look purely mechanical_, Mir thought with relief. _I should be able to lift the bar and latch. Good thing Dureth seems to like keeping his guests hidden enough to have an indoor privy._

She pocketed the companion spystone and snuck quietly out of the sleepy boarding house. The dark-wood elf took care to remain nondescript and nonchalant as she watched for a tail and headed for the Emerald Kiss.

Mir found that the Emerald Kiss was a little clothing shop. The display window showed off a fanciful confection of green gauze that passed for a ball gown._ It looks like a place that Teilla could frequent easily if she didn't travel so much_, she thought.

The shop's interior was laid out in plush and brocade with a few parlor chairs stuffed with plump cushions around a small tea table. Feeling very drab and out of place in her long coat and hunting gear, Mirandaline fidgeted in the entryway before stepping into the dress shop's sitting room. Almost instantly a female elf with red hair and pale skin in a closely laced gown of pale blue came up, looked Mir up and down and asked frostily, "Can I help you?"

Mir jumped a little and said softly, "I'm looking for Eriselle. I was supposed to pick something up..."

"This way," the lady elf seemed eager to get Mirandaline out of her nice parlor and shooed the psion into a room with shelves up to the ceiling, full of cloth in a multitude of different hues and textures. A dark haired moon elfmaid sat at a table with parts of a deep purple dress carefully laid out in front of her. A pile of folded cloth in grass green, pale grey, dark blue and deep red occupied a corner of the work space. "Eriselle?" the red haired elf called and the moon elf looked up. "Were you expecting someone?"

Eriselle looked Mir up and down, and then said briskly, "She's the fit model for the green. How is your Mistress Dollendren?"

_Aha, the start of the pass codes_, Mir thought and answered, "She does well at her books and letters. She hopes that her dress will be ready soon."

"Right, this way then," Eriselle picked up the grass green dress from her worktable and started off for a small set of doors in the back of the workshop. Mir followed the moon elf into a little room with a row of hooks for cloth and garments, a plain chair, a low round footstool and a small chest of drawers with ribbons and other bric-a-brac strewn haphazardly over it.

Eriselle shut the door behind Mir and said softly, "Report, shadow crescent."

The dark-wood elf smiled a little at the moniker and said quietly, "Found location. I'll retrieve any documents onsite for Spirit-of-Flame."

The moon elf nodded and said, "Well, you better try the dress on to keep the cover going. Leave your chemise on if you're wearing one."

--)--------

Mir left the dressmaker's through the back with a pretty good idea of how she was going to get back into the potion shop. She stalked quietly towards Dureth's place from the next street over and tried to figure out which window opened into the indoor privy.

She paused in the shadows of a hen house in the back courtyard of his particular city block and watched warily for movement inside the potion shop. Mir crept closer. A back door opened out into the courtyard and Dureth came out, followed closely by Underdark. They passed by the hen house and the dark-wood elf got a decent look at the potion seller's guest. _He's a handsome fellow_, she admitted to herself, _All aquiline features and light steps._

As she ducked behind the outbuilding of clucking birds to avoid discovery, Mir could feel a wave of something slick, cold, crawly, cloying and altogether unpleasant flowing in his wake. It reminded the archer of the time she went caving and found the signs of a colony of bats with her hands. She filed the feeling away, hid her travel pack and bow under the henhouse and made her way around to the side of the potion shop.

She found the indoor privy window. It was set high up on the wall, higher than she had thought from the spystone's vantage. Mir put her hands against the wall and felt for wards. They prickled against her palms like a hedgehog's spines._ At least they don't have the greasy guano feel wafting off that other elf_, she thought.

Practice with Kaeldin after the brush with the mythal leyline had sharpened her tactile sense of the Weave. Given enough time, she could push at minor workings without having direct contact with the caster, provided she had direct contact with the magical effect. Mir felt for any weak spots around the small window and started to use her kinesis to pull the security bar up from the inside. Concentrating harder, she carefully felt those prickly strands of magical wards and gently "pushed" them away from the ventilation window. The wards reformed back to their normal position when she lost her mental grip on them. Grumbling under her breath, Mir held the ward-lines back as she climbed up, retrieved her spystone and wiggled through the little window.

The indoor latrine looked much the same as when she saw it through the spystone, save now she could smell the midden at the bottom of it. The dark-wood elf paused in the doorway and listened intently for any sounds that might indicate someone in the shop. She did not hear anything and quickly padded to the office where Dureth and Underdark had been talking.

Mirandaline found the strongboxes in a cabinet near the desk. Keeping a sharp ear out for anything that might be caused by the shopkeeper's return, she felt for wards on the lockboxes themselves. No traces of magic brushed against her fingers. With a quick mental exertion, the archer opened the first of the two flat metal boxes.

Within both boxes were a few stacks of paper covered in some kind of script Mir did not recognize. She pulled a thick rolled kit from an interior pocket of her coat and opened it up.

When Faenllach came to Kraanfhoar with a spying mission for Mirandaline, he could not have found a better set of instructors in one place. Thanks to Aryvaandar's occupation of Miyeritar, most of the High Mages there knew something of spycraft. In particular, Lilleen knew a great deal of how to tell what was valuable and how to obtain documents without letting the opposite party know about it. The little kit was on loan from the loremistress.

_Things I can't read in nondescript locked boxes certainly falls into that category,_ Mir thought wryly as she unrolled the leather wrapped package. Inside, a tiny bottle of water, a few pens, nibs a small bottle of ink and a large stack of thin paper sat waiting. She examined the stack of coded documents. _Feels like vellum. Thick vellum too. There can't be many sheets here..._

She quickly dampened one of her thin pieces of paper with water and pressed it against the vellum original. The ink on the vellum transferred to Mir's sheet, leaving a legible mirror image of the coded script on the paper and no damage to the original. She carefully peeled her damp copy back and set it aside to dry. Ten vellum sheets in total sat in the first strongbox. Mir managed to copy all of them before moving on to the second box.

The script looked different in this box and there was a velvet pouch sitting in it as well. Mir quickly used a wax crayon and another sheet of paper to make rubbings of the two gold coins within it. Then she quickly moved on to making mirror copies of the remaining vellum sheets. When she finished, Mir carefully restacked the originals and relocked the strongboxes.

Finally, the dark-wood elf set the two boxes back exactly where she had found them. Mir rolled up the dry copies and stowed them in a pocket. She still could not hear any sounds that might indicate the return of the shopkeeper or his friend. She snuck out through the privy window and took care to replace the window bar back in its frame.

Mirandaline quietly padded back to the henhouse in the rear courtyard and retrieved her pack out from under it. After brushing the feathers off of it, she headed for the Emerald Kiss and kept a wary eye out for any pursuit on Balefire's shadowy streets. When the archer arrived at the clothing shop's backdoor, she knocked and was almost immediately shooed in by Eriselle.

When the two elves were safely ensconced in the fitting room, the moon elf asked pleasantly, "Did your mistress Dollendren approve the design?"

_Did I succeed_, Mir translated from the codes. "Yes she did. My mistress likes the dress."

Eriselle smiled and took a paper wrapped parcel from a pile of them on one of the work tables. "Here you go then," the seamstress said briskly as she handed the package to Mirandaline. The archer looked at it uncomprehendingly. "Your mistress's dress silly," Eriselle laughed.

Mir chuckled back and took the bundled dress. As she stowed it in her pack before leaving to wend her way towards the portal back to the astral plane.

_This place is actually kind of interesting_, Mir thought as she glanced at the deep shadows cast by a bright yellow lantern. _Creepy but interesting_.

Mir got the feeling of being watched a moment before a voice called out, "Hey Duskhunter!" She quickly turned to look for who called her and swiftly cursed her mistake. She recognized the drow in the ubiquitous dark clothing and ragged claw scars across his face. _What is an Auzkovyn doing here?_ She thought nervously. _The last time I saw him, he was trying to recruit me to their clan via kidnapping._ "What do you want?"

"So brusque with poor Teboyn, little woodsmistress?" the drow said mockingly, with sarcasm dripping off his every word. "And I would have thought us beyond such pettiness."

Mir felt another sensation, one of something cloying, slimy and icky wash over her. She spun and side stepped, keeping Teboyn in view, but getting a good look at the accomplice sneaking up behind her. _Oh blast and burn!_ she thought and strove to keep the recognition of Dureth's guest off her face. _Corellon, let it be another recruitment attempt and not anything about those papers..._ "Whatever you're hawking, I'm not interested."

"Not even for a scouting job?" Underdark smiled sardonically.

"Not for the Auzkovyn," she answered and tried to move surreptitiously away from the two of them. Underdark moved to keep the archer between himself and Teboyn. _Trapped, I'm in a trap._

Underdark smiled mirthlessly at her attempt at subtle evasion. "Whoever said we were Auzkovyn? Surely you'd take up with a group dedicated to undermining Lolth's control over the drow. Teboyn recommends you highly."

_This isn't going to end well_, Mir thought worriedly as she tried to think of something to buy her time to escape. The street was, unfortunately, rather narrow and she could not see any passer by. _I'm not even sure if anyone would do anything anyway even if I did make a ruckus. _"If you aren't Auzkovyn, then what group are we talking about?"

"I am Izzyraen of Eryndlyn," Underdark said evenly. He looked the dark-wood elf up and down. Mir tried not to let her nervousness and discomfort show.

The two drow moved closer to Mir and the slimy feeling intensified around Mirandaline. _That's it,_ she thought. _Time to leave_.

The archer moved forwards as if she wanted to dash forward down the open lane by going through Izzyraen. He moved to grab her and Mir abruptly reversed back pedaled her direction with one elbow leading the rest of her. She hit Teboyn solidly in the chest and tried to push past the former Auzkovyn.

Teboyn grunted with the impact the air whooshing out of his lungs. He grabbed feebly at her, but Mir twisted away to avoid his reaching hands. Izzyraen took advantage of Mir's lapse in attention to come up and grab the archer around her shoulders. Mir felt the slimy sensation of his magic change and start moving around her like algae coated water weeds. Truly frightened now, she mentally pushed at it as hard as she could. The familiar falling sensation of a teleport spell washed over her and she flailed with her psionics, filling the alley with the ferny scent of her mind magic.

The ground under Mir's feet changed from hard, dry cobblestones to soft, springy and slightly damp. The Balefire street became some strange grassy wilderness with everything, from grass to shrubs appeared black or grey. Mir twisted and tried to hit Izzyraen with and elbow or knee, but her bow stave got in the way and tripped them both. He kept his hold on her as they fell into the grass with a soft rustled thud.

Mirandaline landed on top of Izzyraen and felt the air whoosh out of him. The drow's grip on Mir loosened enough for her to reach her new curved knife. She yanked it out of its sheath on the back of her belt and slashed wildly at Izzyraen. He pushed the smaller archer off of him and rolled to his feet, bloody gouges across his face and arms and an expression of rage underneath the cuts.

Mir took the opportunity afforded by the sudden opening to turn and bolt, not knowing or caring what direction she took. She glanced back, saw Izzyraen sprouting bat-like wings and ran faster. Tree on the left, Mir realized. She angled for the distant cover, keeping an ear out for any sounds of pursuit. A leathery snap warned the psion that Izzyraen had taken up the chase.

Mirandaline listened desperately for wingbeats under the sound of her panicked breathing, knowing that when they stopped the drow-dragon would be diving on her. She kept running for the trees as straight as an arrow. Looking back would cost her time better spent in heading for cover.

Izzyraen did not disappoint her. Soon, the wing beats stopped. The archer waited half a moment before throwing herself on the ground. She felt the wind of the drow-dragon's near miss ruffle her hair. She looked up and saw him climbing back into the air for either another pass or to gain distance to throw spells.

Mir quickly sheathed her bloodied knife, pulled out her short bow and strung it. She took two arrows, set one on the string and palmed the other one, a trick of her mother's. As Izzyraen turned back to wards her, Mir loosed one arrow and then the other. The first hit the winged drow hard in the shoulder, just under the collar bone. The second arrow lodged itself in the elbow joint of one of the wings. He tumbled to the ground growling something under his breath and shadows sprang up from the ground to slow his fall. Mir started running for the trees again before he landed.

The psion made it to the dubious shelter of the shadowy trees. They seemed like willows, but the leaves were a strange mottled brown grey and the trunks were black. She kept moving through the shadow forest until the grass under the trees became thick black brush with sharp thorns and thick leaves. The fourth such thicket she came across, she dived under the lowest branches and twigs and dug a little hollow in the leaf litter. She pulled her hood over her pale grey hair to hide the con contrast between it and the foliage. She used her telekinesis to sweep more leaves and twigs over herself, to hide the signs of her scurry under the shrub and create a false trail heading continuing on. Then she stilled her panicked breathing and waited in tortuous silence for her pursuer to arrive.

Crashing sounds through the undergrowth heralded Izzyraen's pursuit. _City boy_, she thought disdainfully as she remained still and silent as the noise came closer.

As the drow-dragon tromped closer to Mir's hiding spot, she could hear half a conversation taking place. "No, I can't find her," he said angrily. "The little widow spider did something during the teleport and I'm stuck out in the middle of nowhere."

He paused before continuing heatedly, "No, Teboyn neglected to mention the wench had magic... it wasn't of the Secret Weave, I would have bloody caught that... No he didn't say why he wanted to catch her. I thought he wanted a plaything." Another pause. "Yes, I have the scroll of recall back to Chaulssin, Sharnar... Fine. You can explain to the patron fathers why you've failed to open it yet. You and the fallen Imphraezel."

Izzyraen stomped around a little longer, coming so close to Mir's hiding spot that the archer could make out the twisting serpentine patterns tooled into his black boots. She kept her breathing light and soft, remaining as still and silent as possible.

Finally, Mirandaline heard a rustle of parchment and the monotone chant of spellcasting in progress. Shadows wrapped around and enveloped the intricate boots. When they subsided, Izzyraen was gone. The psion waited a full nerve wracking ten minutes before feeling sure enough to emerge from her hiding spot in the scrub brush.

Mir looked at the strange dark forest and wondered what to do next. _I'm not familiar enough with Balefire to teleport back and trying to cross the planes with one of my little hops seems downright reckless..._

At a loss for what to do, she started wandering through the shadowy woods, looking for a good spot to hunker down and rest for a few hours, keeping an eye out for danger the entire time. She found a stand of dull black boulders partially obscured by brown and grey brambles. After she finished checking the area thoroughly for signs of occupation, Mir crawled under the thorn bushes to the center of the rock pile. She sat down, pulled a bit of travel beset out of her pack and nibbled at it. Further examination of the contents of her travel pack revealed the book Sophon had slipped in. _I don't think a history of the Dracorage wars is going to help me any, _she thought morosely.

Still drawing a blank on what to do or where to go next, the archer sat down and began the breathing exercises she used to start reverie. Not having a real direction to send her mental exercises, she dreamed of listening to the mages talk to each other without really paying attention to them, feeling the flow of their connections around her. The ebbing of her mediations took her back to her childhood, feeling the other wood elves around her, her mother's love especially. She came out of her rest feeling a little better.

She started the mental exercises that would allow her psionics to recharge. Afterwards, she let her perceptions drift out like dandelion seeds on the wind. _It's so dark,_ she idly mused._ I so miss having other tel'quessir around._

She could sense more of the creeping greasy feel that had been wafting off Izzyraen. 'The secret weave that the bastard was talking about?' Mir let her passive sensing wander out further and further. Then she felt a flicker of change in the oppressive cold feeling. It seemed sharper, prickly and warmer somehow, less slimy and crawly.

The psion homed in on the faint difference enough to determine direction and ended the mental exercise. Both of Mir's feet had fallen asleep and her legs felt stiff and leaden from sitting. She stretched out, picked up her things and started off in the direction of the oddness she had sensed out.

After what seemed like an interminable amount of time loping towards the warm spark, Mir stopped and tried to sense it again. The edge of the little psychic spot seemed more complex. _It's like picking out a target from a long way of,_ Mir thought. _The closer you get, the more detail becomes recognizable_. She could now feel something underneath the prickly sensation. On a lark, the archer knelt down and put both hands on the ground.

She could feel it stronger through the black dirt. Mir determined a very slight upward slope to it, as rough as jute twine, but there was definitely a core to it. The archer ran her hands over the ground and tried to sort out the feel of the black soil and dry grasses from the psychic touch. _It feels like it's sloping gradually towards that spot I sensed,_ she frowned inwardly. _Well, I don't really have any better ideas at the moment, might as well see where this leads._

Mir walked in the direction of the odd spark for another day, taking time to hunt out a safe place for her reverie and do her daily meditations. After a dry meal of more travel bead and dried fruit, the archer set off again. She spotted an unexpected bit of light color amidst all the black, grey and brown vegetation. Within a little patch of sturdy ground creeper plants with black flowers there sprouted a palm sized section with dainty white blooms, in stubborn defiance to all the shadows around them.

Mirandaline gently put her hands over the patch of tiny white flowers and felt the prickly sensation envelop her hands. Mir opened her magic sensing more fully and felt the tiny area.

Pain, fear and worry wove predominately through the locus, a sharp tingling cold sensation against the dark-wood elf's hands. Now that she had actual contact with the spot, another texture met her fingers. A metallically cool, liquid feel swirled just under the prickly one. _It's like Kraanfhoar's leyline,_ Mir realized abruptly. _A speck of elven mythal here?! Lilleen wanted to see if I could push that one around, maybe I can try to do that here. It isn't as if I have anything better to do._

Mirandaline readied her psionics and mentally shoved at the magical structure. To her surprise, it gave a little against the push, not much but more than Kraanfhoar's mythal line had. She sent her mental touch around the leyline and sent the touch spinning around it faster and faster.

When the mental force felt like it orbited the magical structure at a decent clip, Mir tried to pushing again. It moved more than it did the first time she tried. The psion could sense the ripple the disturbance sent out. Rather than worry about who might have noticed the activity with the High Magic construct, she did it again and gained a feel for the other side of the mythal barrier. Mir kept trying. _I might be able to manage a teleport if I can get a solid feel and a really good look at my target_.

She pushed again and felt the sense of the line around her hands twitch up and down her wrists. She kept trying to wobble the strand. Then she felt the prickly sensation wash over her arms and knees. Mir focused the whole of her attention on the little patch of white flowers and kept psionically pushing as hard as she could on the strand. The color of the ground plants' leaves started to flicker between black and green. Mirandaline redoubled her efforts and tried to ignore the fatigue that began to gnaw at her shoulders and knees.

The prickly feeling crept up the psion's arms with each oscillation. She could feel the mental strain of continuing to push at the mythal start to take its toll on her. Every measured breath carried with it the scent of rain soaked forest. As she continued to become immersed, Mir started to become aware of something else, another presence when the ripples reached their peak.

Somewhere in the back of her mind as she sank deeper, Mir realized that she could no longer free herself from the spot in the field. She pushed harder, reaching for the other presence and felt it gain texture when she bobbed closer to it.

Muddled confusion, sharp wariness and more of that cool steely resolve wavered in and out of Mirandaline's perceptions. The strand closed over the psion's head and suddenly she swung back and forth in the magical field's wobble. All the sensations felt less muddy, but on the downside, Mir felt the breath slowly crushed out of her. However, she could feel the other presence more clearly. Alone and scared, Mir reached out to it with all the will she could muster.

The impression of a question formed in Mir's head. _Friend? Ally?_

The lack of air prevented the psion from forming a cohesive response. Instead she dropped some of her mental barriers and strained towards the presence. Mir fed the last of her strength into one last push and hoped it would be enough as she started to feel adrift and strangely detached.

Warm soft hands suddenly clasped Mirandaline's. Then unconsciousness washed over the dark-wood elf in a smothering blanket and she knew no more.

--)--------

Author's Note: I hope those of you reading this story are enjoying it thus far and I hope that some of the stranger magic twisting I'm doing make at least a little sense. The next few updates should come a bit more frequently than they have been, at least for a little while.

As always, I love it when readers tell me how I'm doing, even if it isn't complimentary 


	13. Weavings

Disclaimer: Blah blah blah. Alternate time line... I'm ignoring all 4th edition crap... anything recognizable isn't mine... and I heart Ed Greenwood for letting us all play in his Realms.

* * *

Kileontheal looked down at unconscious the elf in front of her. When she felt the disturbance in Evereska's mythal, this had not been what the sun elf mage expected. _A half drow elf girl from the look of her_, Kileontheal thought. _However did she get here?_

The _selu'taar_ cast a spell to see the structure of the mythal weaving. The silver strands of Evereska's mythal appeared before her. Instead of the normal interlaced strands of magic stretching up towards the sky, a teardrop shaped bubble of the mythal's edge seemed to slowly ease back up towards the sky and reform to its normal state. Kileontheal walked around the odd protuberance in the mythal and found a gap between a set of strands just big enough for a small elf to squeeze through. As the high mage watched, the strands slowly closed around the small gap to regain their basket-like weave.

The sun elf swept her dark green skirts under her knees as she knelt down next to the senseless mixed race elf and looked at the girl more closely. Much of the young elf's clothing was travel worn and all of it was dark brown and grey. The girl's long pale grey hair was roughly plaited back from a pretty dark face smudged with black dirt. Bits of leaves and twigs with more black soil covered the young elf's clothes. The girl carried a travel pack slung haphazardly over one shoulder. Kileontheal tucked an errant wisp of golden hair behind one pointed ear and pulled the travel bag off the girl. She did not turn when she heard footsteps at the door of the spellcasting chamber. Instead she stepped back and puzzled over the girl. _She felt like one of the People when I touched minds with her, not what I recall from visiting that enclave of Eillistraee centuries ago. How did she do what she did to the mythal? More to the point, who taught her work magic so?_

"Lady Mage!" a tenor male voice called as the footsteps came nearer. A brown haired moon elf clad in silver chainmail, bearing the silver and blue device of Evereska came in Kileontheal's field of vision. "I heard thunder from this room. What happened? What is that drow doing here?!"

"Captain, please put our uninvited guest somewhere safe and see to it that a healer looks at her." Kileontheal looked at the young moon elf warrior. "I wish to speak with her when she wakes up."

More footsteps announced the arrival of more of the City guard. The captain repeated Kileontheal's orders to his people and they commenced a quick search of the half drow. They divested her of a bow, arrows, an inwardly curved knife and a carefully rolled packet of papers. The guard captain moved as if he was going to take the items with him, but the high mage stopped him. "I would like to examine those myself, Captain. I may be able to gain more information concerning our uninvited guest."

The guardsman shrugged and left the small pile of weapons and personal items on the polished stone floor. They picked up the limp girl on a cloak held between four of them and left the rotunda chamber. Kileontheal turned her attention to the girl's belongings. A soft whisper of a spell and the high mage transported herself and the items to the airy rooms set aside for her use. Another light touch of the Weave allowed the gold elf to examine the half drow's equipment for enchantments.

The weapons seemed straight forward enough, mostly mundane or mildly enchanted, so she set them to the side and put the travel pack on a sturdy, scarred wooden work table. She started to empty the weathered canvas shoulder bag out. _Nothing overly remarkable_, the mage thought, puzzled. _Food __supplies, water, clothing... a dress... Wait, what's this?_

Kileontheal pulled out a cracked leather bound book and looked at the faded title on the first page. _An Oral history of the Dracorage Wars? Written in Seldruin of all things?!_ The mage closed the tome and glanced at the packet of papers. She unrolled the the leather wrapped package and looked at the supplies inside and the papers in some strange script she did not immediately recognize. _A copy kit?Child, what have you been doing?_

Frowning, Kileontheal cast a stronger spell to detect magic. The papers written in code suggested that a closer look at the girl's equipment might be in order. The knife glowed intermittently as did two small crystal marbles. _Psionics?_ The mage thought, _Surely there can't be two half drow psions running around with access to tomes written in Seldruin... Perhaps this is the child young Teshurr was grousing about a some months back..._

As she surveyed the array of articles before her, Kileontheal murmured to the empty room, "If you are indeed the child Araevin has been grumbling about, then by all the Seldarine, what have you been doing?"

Sighing, the gold elf looked at the coded sheets again. She laid all of them out in front of her and began to try to puzzle out meaning from the strange symbols, leaving word with the guards for someone to notify her when the half drow awoke.

Kileontheal cast a few spells to determine that the papers were not written in a languages the sun elf was unfamiliar with and then started to laboriously hunt down clues to allow her to translate the documents. She flipped the thin sheets over and saw some of the symbols begin to make a little bit of sense to her. _They look a bit like draconic runes... _she mused. _I wonder if the draconic alphabet is being used in place of another one, since the symbols are more commonly used to meaning and concepts rather than sounds. What happens when I write this out phonetically..._

A few hours later, the old elven wizard looked at her handiwork with a grimace. _It still looks like nonsense,_ she grumbled softly aloud. Kileontheal looked at her sample page for a moment before realizing, _It probably doesn't sound like nonsense though...._

Quickly rummaging through he spell book, the sun elf found a spell to read things back to her and cast it over her phonetic copy of the coded papers. The spell stuttered a few times, but otherwise read the page smoothly. Kileontheal sat back and wondered, _How did the girl get a hold of this? Someone has to be very close to the leadership in Myth Drannor to have found out so much about mythal craft... specifically the undermining of such Weavings... I've only just been corresponding with young Teshurr about repairing such corruptions..._

The mage shook herself out of the wave of worry and set to translating the rest of the documents. _I will have to speak to the child when she wakes up... I need to ensure that she is not a threat to the people..._

* * *

"The two of you bumblers better have an explanation," An elegantly dressed drow elf glowered at both Teboyn and Izzyraen as they stood before him. The pair eyed him back defiantly.

"The sources I still have among the Auzkovyn said Duskhunter had disappeared while traveling with two others," Teboyn shot back. "A half human minstrel and a human holy warrior. Sound familiar, Sharnar?"

Sharnar's tone dripped ice as he regarded the scar faced elf, "And the ones I encountered, while skilled, had no clue why I was there or if I succeeded. Thanks to the pair of you, that is now in jeopardy."

Izzyraen fussed with the bandages on his forearms and said unconcernedly, "Don't worry about the half breed wench, mage. She won't get far out in the middle of nowhere on the Shadow Plane. Besides, she doesn't know anything. How could she?"

"If you did not kill her, fool, then she still could conceivably contact her former companions before she dies of exposure," Sharnar fought the desire to blast his two subordinates into dust. _I've limited resources left to me after the fiasco at the crypt and these two morons have not outlived their usefulness yet. At least Gorruan has some concept of how to take orders for all his arrogance._

"I still don't understand what she could possibly know that could be dangerous to us," Teboyn grumbled.

The drow mage looked disdainfully at the drow fighter and Drow-dragon before him and ordered, "I want the bard and the paladin watched closely. If the girl manages to send a message off to them I want to be the first person to know about it. Shortly thereafter I want the two _iblith _dead, preferably 'accidental' deaths. And I actually do want it to look like an accident, not like the last time you two idiots had to kill someone quietly. The roads in Faerun can be so dangerous, you understand."

Teboyn and Izzyraen, both grimacing, nodded and strode out of Sharnar's study, leaving the mage alone with his thoughts. _If Duskhunter is who Gorruan believes, we will need to watch all of them carefully. I might yet turn this into an opportunity if it is so. Access to magic no one has seen in millenea... How fortunate for me that Gorruan's charge is so loose tongued when upset._

Sharnar looked over at the two tomes open on his desk. The Aryvaandar lore books on shadow magic seemed straight forward enough on the surface, but both books hinted that there were far more powerful spells that could be cast in concert with other elves, something requiring multiple mages known as Selu'taar. From Gorruan's reports, Sharnar knew that meant High Mages, a form of magic that had not been used by dark elves for centuries upon centuries. The spy's reports also said that one of the mages he "served" could wield High magic on his own, without aid from any others.

_If Gorruan can weasel out how the faerie elf does so, I might have a chance at using some of this ancient magic for my own gain. He knows that the two of us might gain great power from this endeavor._ Sharnar smiled at the thought.

Sharnar himself barely had enough dragon blood to qualify as one of Chaulssin's citizenry, let alone one of the ruling class. He looked down at the fine dusting of scales over the backs of his hands and ran a finger over the slightly thicker scales that ran around his eyes. His ability to manipulate the Shadow Weave set him in high regard to the Patron Fathers of the city of Wyrmshadows, but they only saw him as a useful lackey and nothing more. _When this is over and done, I will no longer have to put up with the dregs that they insist on assigning to me. Gorruan was a gift of the Masked Lord though. That one knows very well how to ingratiate himself amongst his enemies and is as skilled as his fallen cousin Nimor at infiltration._

Sharnar went to peruse the ancient spellbooks again, smiling as he did so. The Patron Fathers would eventually set their sights to the Night Above. When they did, they would find Sharnar ready, waiting and holding most of the cards. _There are elven cities other than those in the Underdark waiting to be annexed,_ the dragon tainted drow thought in measured anticipation.

* * *

Author's note: Well all I can say is that I wish people who have read this story this far would drop me a line about it. Oh well...

Anyway, my plot bunnies are biting me again. They are so demanding of attention.


	14. Rebound

Disclaimer: Canon? What canon? I don't see any canon here. If someone sees this "canon" please tell me so I can have this story fumigated for it. Anyone recognizable probably is not my creation and belongs to someone else.

* * *

Mirandaline came out of oblivion by degrees. She felt warm and dry and wrapped in something soft. Her hands felt a little gritty and the smell of fresh clean hay greeted her as she came fully awake. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times. The room she was in looked clean, whitewashed and there were sturdy iron bars on the glass window. Sunlight, warm and golden streamed into the tiny room._ Why am I in a prison cell?_ Mir thought, somewhat befuddled and unconcerned at the same time.

She looked around the bright cell and tried to work up some worry or concern but failed utterly. She simply felt too drained to do so. She wriggled out of the soft wool felt blanket she was wrapped in, sat up and took a better look at the room. A bucket in the corner was probably meant to serve as a chamber pot and there was a small barred window set in a sturdy looking wooden door. She looked around and could not find her new fighting knife or her bow anywhere. She felt for her smaller pocket knife in her vest pocket and could not find it either. Taking inventory of what things she still had with her, the psion discovered that the documents that she had worked so hard to steal undetected were gone along with all of her other equipment.

Tired of the feeling of helplessness that was beginning to feel overly familiar to her, Mirandaline sat down to do her daily mental exercises, hoping to find some comfort in the routine. As she sat, she noticed something very strange. Her mind was so abuzz with tension and exhaustion that she had trouble focusing on the simple routine. She tried again with no success. _What's wrong with me?_ she wondered, worried. _And while I'm at it, where am I?_

She got up and tried to peek out through the small barred window. More whitewashed stone hallways greeted her. Mir called out uncertainly, "Hello?"

A tall, chestnut haired moon elf appeared in the window and said with distaste, "Oh, so you're finally awake."

"Why am I being held here?" Mir asked nervously. "I didn't do anything."

The guard said nothing and turned away from the little window. Mirandaline sat down, wrapped herself up in the blanket and tried very hard not to cry. _My psionics don't seem to want to come back, I'm in a cell guarded by strange Tel'Quessir and to top it all off, the documents are gone._

The sun set and Mir could see stars through the window. She got up and looked though the window at the little twinkling points of light. _Those look like the patterns I used to see over Whizban on clear autumn nights..._ the dark-wood elf thought. _I made it back to Faerun? I succeeded in manipulating High Magic?_ Elation nibbled the edge off her depression, leaving Mir feeling a little more balanced.

The door opened and two elven guards, one carrying a crossbow and the other one bearing a plate of bread and cheese and a earthenware jug of something that sloshed. Mir did not move from her seat on the straw. The one with the crossbow held it aimed at Mir while the other set the plate and jug on the ground just inside the door. Then the pair of them shut and bolted the door again.

The dark-wood elf got up and took the plate of food, wondering if it was drugged. The smell of the fresh bread set her stomach to growling and Mir decided that she was too hungry to care about anything that might have been slipped into the meal. After eating everything on the plate, Mir felt a bit better, but still confused and nervous over why she was stuck in a cell and why her psionics were not recovering from the exertion of the day before. _I hope they come back eventually_, She thought. _It feels strange without them._

Multiple footsteps sounded outside, approaching the door. Mir looked up as the door opened and two grim faced, armored moon elves escorted a petite female sun elf in a simple dark green wool dress into the cell. "Please leave us," The sun elf told the two guards.

One of the big moon elves started, "Milady, are you...?"

"I will be fine," the smaller elf assured him and slipped a slender carved wooden wand out of her sleeve. "I did not come unprepared for an escape attempt. Please go." The guards looked at each other, shrugged and trooped out of the cell, bolting the door on their way out.

When they left, the sun elf turned to Mirandaline and asked, "Who are you child?"

"I'm Mirandaline," Mir replied and continued quickly, on the verge of tears, "I didn't mean any harm and I don't know what I did and everything seems like it's gone wrong..."

"You are Mirandaline Sparrowhawk?" The sun elf cut into Mir's incipient hysteria.

Mir blinked and felt calm radiate out from the other elf. "Yes. Who are you?"

"I am Mage Kileontheal," the sun elf answered. "What were you doing wherever you came from?"

"I was getting something for someone and I need to take it back to them," Mir said evasively.

"I will need more than that, child, if you wish to convince me that Mage Teshurr is wrong about you," Kileontheal sternly replied.

Mir looked at the sun elf more closely and tried the passive sensing. To her surprise, it did still function. _Kileontheal feels a little familiar. I wonder... _On a guess, Mir switched to Seldruin rather than Elven, "_Wast thou my savior from death in between the planes_?"

Kileontheal's slanted golden eyes widened and she gasped in dual surprise at Mir's gentle mental touch and the switch in language. "_Thou art of the People. To breach the Weaving as thee did, thou must be so. Nevertheless, give me thine hands. I must be sure_."

The dark-wood elf got up and did so. Kileontheal's hands felt soft and warm and the spirit behind them burned bright and familiar. Mir let go feeling a good deal better than she did before. "I decoded your documents, young lady," Kileontheal whispered in Mir's ear. "There is someone in Myth Drannor feeding information to whoever had the originals of your coded copies. The documents do not mention names, but some of the information indicates that whoever it is has access to Araevin and is somewhat trusted by that maverick."

"Wouldn't it be simple for a High Mage to spot a N'Tel'Quessir?" Mir whispered back, befuddled.

"Araevin did not become a _selu'taar_ through conventional means," The sun elf said quietly.

"That's right, he's like Kaeldin," Mir sighed in frustration, "He can't sense other elves anymore."

"Who's Kaeldin?" Kileontheal asked.

"One of my teachers from Kraanfhoar," Mir answered quickly. "What can I do to help? I've got kin in Cormanthyr and drow spies would not be beneficial to them."

Kileontheal arced a honey brown eyebrow and Mir amended quickly, "On the wood elf side of my family."

"I need you to carry word to Ilsevele Miritar and Starbrow Melruth that they need to keep an eye out for treachery from someone close to them," Kileontheal said urgently. "I'm sending you with a decoded copy of the documents you found. Who did you report to for this?"

"An eladrin named Faenllach," Mirandaline felt like jumping for joy. "You're letting me go?"

"No," Kileontheal grinned mischievously looking for all the world like a schoolgirl contemplating a wonderful prank, "You're going to escape. It'll be best if our opponents still think you an outcast."

"Oh," Mir felt deflated a little bit. Then a crashing noise sounded from somewhere outside the cell along with two heavy thuds. Both elves jumped and turned towards the door.

A pale moon elven face topped by an unruly thatch of black hair peeked in the window. His dark blue eyes widened when he saw Kileontheal and he unbolted and opened the door before saying uncertainly, "Ummm... Milady? Something seems to have knocked the guards out."

"A likely story," Kileontheal said sharply. "Who are you?"

"Jassin Laelithar, Milady," Jassin continued quickly as he tried to nudge something on the other side of the doorway, "I was supposed to relieve the guards.."

"It's mid watch," the sun elf eyed him suspiciously.

Jassin stuttered a little more, "I'm bringing food in?" something fell with a sharp wooden clatter just outside the door. The slim moon elf winced at the noise.

"Then why are you hiding my bow behind you?" Mir asked with a grin.

"Oh that." Again the moon elf tried to search for words to get him out of the trouble he found himself in. "It needed air?"

"Hold still," Kileontheal ordered. She began a spell and gestured at the worried moon elf. Nothing overt happened and she sighed, "Doing a favor for someone?"

"Umm, well," Jassin ran a hand through his hair sheepishly, "Hienfor didn't exactly ask me to spring his cousin from prison but it seemed like the sort of thing he'd appreciate."

"Your mind says truth, young Laelithar," Kileontheal said with a small smile. "Good, you can help Mirandaline escape Evereska, since you intended to do that anyway." She turned to Mir and the dark wood elf could hear the mage's voice in her head, _He is trustworthy. His mind has nothing hidden away and he has family here. I would not trust anyone else though unless you can scan them in a similar manner_.

Mir immediately worried about her psionics coming back. Kileontheal caught the thought and replied silently, _I'm sure they will, High mages often cannot cast for a while after a major working. Although I am quite frankly mystified how you got psionics to work in the first place on a major weaving, but that can be addressed later._

"You have Mirandaline's things, Jassin?" the High mage asked aloud.

The moon elf nodded and held up Mir's shoulder bag and long coat. To her dismay, both had turned a very dark grey. _So much for my camouflage dyed coat_, she thought wistfully. _Now I'll really look like a drow._

"Then both of you, go like the wind and do not get caught," Kileontheal gestured to the door and made shooing motions. Mir took the hint and started out of the room. As soon as she stepped out into the hall, Jassin picked up the pack hidden just outside the door and started jogging silently off down the corridor. She followed, making no more noise than he did.

They passed the two unconscious guards and kept moving. Jassin seemed canny enough to avoid anywhere with lights and other elves and soon they were free of the administration building Mir had been kept in. Jassin looked back at her and asked in a low voice, "How far do you need me to lead you?"

"I've never been to Evereska," Mir giggled softly. "I think I'd cause quite a stir, don't you agree?"

"Well, I guess," he conceded. "You might have visited with your hair dyed black though."

"That's a good idea, I may have to try it out," The psion noted with a little smile. "How did you meet Heinfor?"

"I'm good with traps and sabotage," Jassin grinned. "Heinfor's scouting group would go with me to locations where I'd make things that did work not work anymore and they would count troops and see what kind of soldiers they were. I was in the Tomb Guard before..."

"Before Shade's return?" Mir asked and Jassin nodded silently. "Was it as bad as the tales?"

He didn't move for a moment. Mir reached out and gently touched the moon elf's shoulder, somewhat worried that he would not accept the contact. He did not seem to notice the light touch. She could feel the old dull emotional pain shimmering off of him and moved a little closer to take some of the edge off of it for him, using her sympathy as a balm. Finally, Jassin said in a raw whisper, "Nearly everyone I knew in the Tomb Guard died in the war against the Phaerimm. There are very few of us left."

"I'm sorry." The words stuck in her throat as she remembered the day her mother had been brought back dead from a hunt after a nest of wyverns by the rest of the hunting party. The quality of Jassin's memory called up the feelings from her own. She pushed them aside and tried to focus on the task at hand. "I should probably get beyond the bounds of the city's mythal. Then I can start looking for the fey's backroads."

Jassin nodded, shaking himself out of his melancholy, "Beyond the Cwm then. I can point out the main road out of the mountains too if that helps."

"It does, thank you," Mir said gratefully. "How long do you have until someone misses you at your post?"

"I've got a few days," he shrugged. "Father might miss me but mostly he's been trying to bury himself in work these days. I've got a sister, but she's still in Cormanthor. Shall we get going?"

Mirandaline nodded in response and they quietly padded through the city in the Greycloak hills. The dark-wood elf kept looking around constantly. _I've never seen a city of elves before. It's sadder than all the stories I've heard._

There were not many out on the street at night. Jassin and Mirandaline had no problem avoiding contact with the few that were walking about. They got over the wall around the city unopposed and started for one of the mountain passes off in the distance. For the most part, they jogged through the hidden dells in silence. The eastern sky started to change from deep blue to pale golden rose by the time they crested the first pass out of Evereska's main valley. "It's going to take us a little longer to get to one of the trails out of the Greycloaks," Jassin said. "You can find your way to Cormanthor from here, right?"

"Easily," Mir grinned. "I can find my way to just about anywhere this close to the Stormhorns."

"As long as you don't get caught in an early blizzard or something," Jassin grinned back.

"A wood elf from high cold mountains not knowing her way around snow," Mir laughed. "That's funny."

Jassin opened his mouth to say something else. Then he stopped and chuckled back. "Sorry, I forgot you never went to Evermeet with Heinfor and thus know not to get run over by the horse carts."

They laughed unrestrainedly as they hiked out of the valley. Mir found that she quite liked having the moon elf around. _He's funny and he doesn't seem to see my hair color so much as some. Kileontheal too, but I suppose that I should chalk that up to touching minds with her when I passed through the planar boundary._

Jassin came to a little trail, no more apparent than a deer path and said, "This is one of the faster ways out of the mountains. Watch for the trees with three knots arranged in a line and always go to the side the tree was on when you get to forks in the path. You'll be free and away in no time."

"Thank you, Jassin," Mir smiled at him and wondered if she should give in to an impulse. _Oh, hells. why not?_ She gave Jassin a hug and said into his shoulder, "Sweet water and light laughter until we next meet."

He hugged her back, "Seldarine guard you. Tell Hienfor I said hi if you see him."

Mir grinned mischieviously as she pulled away and said, "I'll make sure we invite you to Midwinter revels!"

Jassin laughed as he turned back towards Evereska. Mir took off along the path, lighter of heart and hopeful.

* * *

Kileontheal made sure all the preparations in the summoning chamber were ready before she set herself in the middle of a bronze protective circle carefully inlaid into the cool marble floor. Across from the selu'taar, a series of concentric metal rings set into the floor marked the location of the summoning circle. Four white candles burned merrily around the summoning circle, set at regular intervals.

The blond sun elf checked the shields against scrying she had cast around the room earlier before she began the long summoning spell. "Faenllach," she intoned, "Faenllach, I request thy aid and wisdom to better serve the People."

A soft mist coalesced in the center of the summoning circle and swirled like a whirlwind. It gained cohesion and color until a pale haired, armored figure could be seen kneeling in the center of the small magical storm. The spinning mist disappeared, leaving the kneeling figure withing the circle. He stood up and regarded the aged sun elf with opalescent eyes. "Ask your three questions, mage, and let me return to my lord."

Kileontheal took a deep breath to steady her mind to gently hold the summoning. It would hardly do to mistreat the eladrin. "What was the last plane Mirandaline Sparrowhawk was seen in?"

"The plane of Shadow, in Balefire, the lantern city," Faenllach's expression grew wary.

Kileontheal marked the change in the eladrin and realized that the impressions she had glimpsed off of Mirandaline had been somewhat short on what the bralani was to her. _Two more questions_, the sun elf thought, then said aloud, "Whilst on the plane of Shadow, Mirandaline Sparrowhawk discovered documents pointing to a drow spy among my brethren in Myth Drannor. Who sent her to discover such things?"

Faenllach grimaced, "I did."

_Now for the gamble..._ Kileontheal looked Faenllach in the face. "Who successfully trained Mirandaline Sparrowhawk to manipulate workings of the High Art of the people?"

The bralani stared at Kileontheal for a full minute with his mouth hanging open. _He didn't know_, Kileontheal realized with surprise.

Faenllach recovered himself enough to say, "So that's how she escaped those hoodlums... good for her." Kileontheal lightly coughed and the bralani brought his attention back to the mage. "Mirandaline Sparrowhawk was trained in the lore of the High Art by Kaeldin Raetlun, Lilleen Dollendren, Sophon Lietor and Corythin Ysarque," He answered with a fierce grin.

The High Mage nodded in response and said, "For my fellow selu'taar, I will do my best to smooth her way."

Faenllach bowed, "My gratitude knows no bounds, mage."

Kileontheal bowed in return and released the spell gently. Faenllach's form swirled back into a misty whirlwind and dissipated within the bounds of the summoning circle. She heaved out a sigh and went to craft a private message to Ilsevele Miritar. _It would hardly do to have the messenger killed out of hand should things go wrong for her._

* * *

Selu'taar – elven high mage

Author's note: Well, I thank you, gentle reader for making it thus far. Please drop me a line if you like, even if only to tell me how terrible it is.


	15. Tavern Blitz

Disclaimer: All right this time there will be recognizable canon characters that I do not own.

--)--------

Ricardt looked at the message from the Tyrran clergy he had picked up in Silverymoon as he and Teilla walked up the road to Whizban. The day was bright and clear but very cold. Teilla whistled, just to see how many birds would answer back with angry melodic calls. "So I take it you're looking forward to visiting your father," the paladin smiled.

The half elf laughed in response, "Of course! Papa did say he wanted us to visit within the year."

"It's been a good year overall," Ricardt agreed. "I wish we would get more letters from Mir though."

Teilla shrugged, "She's probably hard at work trying to get out of Kraanfhoar. Besides, She did mention that time seemed different there than here. How else would that Kaeldin of kept his wits for so long?"

"I suppose so," Ricardt conceded. "Next year though, we spend winter with my kin, deal?"

"Fair enough," the bard laughed and skipped down the path, singing without a care in the world.

Ricardt smiled at the half elf's antics and admired her grace as she danced an intricate step up a fallen log. They walked for a little while longer when a prickling feeling started at the back of Ricardt's neck. "Hey Teilla," He called when the bard paused for breath, "Does something seem odd to you?"

The red haired half-elf stopped warbling and looked around. "The forest seems... more still all of a sudden," she said slowly.

Ricardt, called upon his faith to ferret out malign creatures and people. "There's something out there..."

Teilla drew her short sword and moved closer to Ricardt. He unslung his shield and drew his own longsword. He scanned the woods, trying to see the source of the malevolence. Nothing obvious appeared and the paladin moved warily forwards, with Teilla trailing close behind him. "The birds have stopped singing," the bard said nervously.

"A lot of other sounds have stopped too," The paladin felt his worry solidify and sink to the pit of his stomach. "Teilla, next time we forgo the walk and use horses."

"You think it's a predator then," the bard whispered in his ear. Her warm breath tickled the back of his neck.

Ricardt nodded and continued forwards, keeping a watchful eye out for anything out of the ordinary. He saw a shadow move and looked towards it with his shield leading. IT was all that kept him from getting disemboweled in the first rush as a blur of something large, tawny furred and attached to lots of claws slammed into him. The shock of impact caused Ricardt to lose grip of his sword and the paladin felt Teilla bounce against his back as the whatever it was slammed him to the ground. _Tyr grant Teilla time to get clear enough to run,_ he thought.

He shoved up as hard as he could, keeping his shield between the claws and teeth of his attacker and his face and body. The weight lifted and Ricardt was able to get to his knees and get a good look at the creature before it pounced on him again. _A large cat of some kind_, he thought as he struggled to keep the shield between him and the feline and keep himself between it and Teilla. Somewhere behind him, Ricardt heard Teilla start up a melodic chant and banished it to the back of his mind as sharp claws and teeth occupied the bulk of his attention. He shoved the cat off again and spotted where his sword had fallen to. Teilla continued her measured song as Ricardt shuffle stepped over to stand over to the blade. He warily eyed the mountain cat as he crouched down to recover it.

The golden brown feline swayed on its feet. Teilla sang softer and the cat swayed more. The paladin kept himself between the cat and the bard as she carefully worked the spell over the animal. Ricardt noted that the cat's eyes, rather than appearing golden or green, like most cats' eyes, seemed totally black. _Something scared the cougar..._ Ricardt realized. _I wonder what it was._

Soon the cat was lying down, blissfully purring in its sleep. Teilla looked at the cougar nervously and said, "The spell won't last long. We should be gone when kitty wakes up."

The paladin nodded and they started jogging down the trail, putting as much distance between the cougar and themselves as possible before stopping to catch their breath. Teilla looked at Ricardt and said in a small voice, "What did we do to upset that cat so much?"

The dark haired paladin shook his head, "I don't think we did anything. Her eyes were all pupil though. Maybe it was scared?"

"Fear?" Teilla considered it and then wondered aloud, "I suppose we might have gotten between a mother and her cubs. Or maybe it was fleeing from something bigger than it."

"The entire forest did go quiet as if something large and predatory was around," the paladin noted. "Let's get to Whizban and worry about it when we're safely within your uncle Gorbsen's tavern."

The sun was rapidly sinking behind the western side of the Footwell Valley when Teilla and Ricardt first saw the little hamlet where Gorbsen lived. Teilla heaved a disappointed sigh and said, "We probably missed the Spell and Herb festival."

"At least it will be less hectic than the last time we were here," Ricardt said mildly.

They walked into the village as dusk started to fall. Teilla suddenly asked, "Did you hear something?"

Ricardt shook his head in response. The bard frowned in the failing light and wandered towards a small remote out building. Ricardt started to hear someone calling faintly. "What is it?" he asked.

"I think someone's calling for help," Teilla said as she kept walking to wards the little structure.

The paladin recognized one of the village outhouses. As they got closer, Ricardt could make out the edges of a pit directly in front of the privy. The distinct smell emanating from the pit indicated that the pit was where the outhouse should have been. The indistinct calls became cries of, "Hello? Is anyone up there?"

"Just a minute!" Teilla called back. She looked into the hole in the ground. Ricardt came up beside her and looked in as well. A very dirty, long haired male drow stood shivering at the bottom of the latrine pit, knee deep in what would be called "filth" in polite circles. The people of Whizban clearly took their waste management seriously. the pit was set downstream from the small lake west of the village's houses and was almost six feet across and fifteen feet deep. The sides looked slimy with refuse. The drow looked thoroughly miserable and seemed to stand on some sort of rumpled cloth partially submerged in the hamlet's refuse.

"I'd ask how you got down there, but the answer seems fairly obvious," Ricardt noted dryly. "Teilla?"

"I'm going to go see if my uncle has some rope," The bard chuckled, "or a bed sheet he doesn't like."

As the half elf jogged off in search of a rope or something like it, Ricardt looked down at the stuck drow, "So I'm going to guess that one of your group inspired a local to play a prank on you."

"This is a prank?" the drow asked grumpily.

"I'm afraid so," the paladin strove to keep the chuckles out of his voice. "It's a fairly common rural practical joke, most often pulled the morning after celebrations the night before."

The dark elf grumbled something unintelligible and likely not repeatable in mixed company. The paladin chose to ignore the muted vocalization and instead asked, "What's your name?"

"Drizzt," The stuck elf looked up at the paladin, "Your friend is going to return soon, right?"

"No reason she shouldn't," Ricardt glanced over his shoulder and saw two figures walking towards the latrine. "In fact, I see Teilla coming now with one of your friends."

The red haired bard led a much shorter, nondescript male drow dressed for rough travel with a rope slung over his shoulder to the open privy. The new arrival looked a bit confused as he looked into the hole in the ground. He got a look at Drizzt stuck down the latrine and started laughing, "I'm sorry mistress, but that's not one of mine."

"There are other drow here?!" Drizzt sounded shocked. "What kind of a place is this?!"

"Why, Ricardt," Teilla giggled, "He sounds just like you when you first visited."

"I'd like to think that I was less shrill," the paladin said mildly. He looked at both drow and offered a silent prayer up to Tyr to discern their hearts. Neither one elicited the sharp pain in the back of his head that would indicate a servant devoted to dark powers. "Were we going to get to the use the rope or was it intended to only be a display piece?"

"I believe you said something about buying a length of rope if it turned out you were mistaken, mistress," The plain dark elf grinned through his amusement. "Drizzt Do'Urden is not one of my associates."

"And I believe the price we agreed upon was four gold for twenty-five feet of rope if that was the case, Master Valas," Teilla said briskly as she produced the coins from a pocket. "Still here from the spell festival?"

"No," Valas did not elaborate as he cut a length of rope off his coil.

_He's probably being quiet from habit more than intent_, Ricardt kept the smile off his face. _It's a small village, we'll find out why he's here too late for the festival in really short order._

Ricardt looped one end of the rope around himself and lowered the other end down to Drizzt. Valas stuck around to watch. after a few testing tugs, Ricardt got a feel for the dark elf's weight and leaned against it as the drow climbed smoothly up the strong rope. When he heaved himself over the edge of the latrine pit, Drizzt focused on Valas with an angry look on his face and took a step towards the smaller drow.

"Gentle-elves," Ricardt cleared his throat and stepped between them warily, "Might I remind you that Whizban does have a system in place for redressing wrongs and very little tolerance for those who cannot leave their blood feuds outside their valley, to say nothing about starting an unprovoked fight in front of a servant of Tyr. I've no wish to summon the watch with regards to a simple prank."

Drizzt stopped and glared at Valas, who shrugged and said, "It wasn't any of my people. Besides, none of us here have a fly's chance in the Demonwebs of successfully keeping you long enough to collect the bounty on you. So why would we bother losing a lucrative trading site over you?" The smaller dark elf turned to go back to the center of the village. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I was going to go back and listen to the story my cohort was telling the crowd of local kids."

Ricardt watched Valas go for a moment before an errant breeze redirected his attention to Drizzt. "You might want to wash that off before it becomes permanent," The paladin observed mildly. He tried to breathe shallowly. "We'll notify the constables that some wag moved the outhouse back five feet."

"You also might want to consider burning those clothes," Teilla put in, covering her mouth and nose.

The dark elf grimaced and started walking towards the village end opposite the direction Valas had taken. When the elf passed out of earshot, The bard asked, "So that's the famous ranger, Drizzt Do'Urden?"

Ricardt shrugged and headed towards the constables' watchtower. Teilla followed. Inside the plain front office sat a work table and a few chairs as well as a double desk pushed up against one wall. Both constables were present and wearing the plain dark tan tunics and trousers with a sash tied loosely from shoulder to hip. A worn wooden chess set stood ready for the two figures studying the board intently. Josie Kitten, brown haired, brown eyed and limber of form, sat draped over one chair facing the chessboard, apparently unconcerned. Zorac, sullen faced, tusked and barrel chested, pondered the arrangement of the chessmen before him. Finally the stocky constable moved his rook forwards a few places. Josie considered the board for a handful of heartbeats before moving one of her clerics to counter the rook. She looked up and greeted the bard and the paladin in a smoky voice, "Well, hello. What brings you here in the off season?"

"We're passing through on the way to visiting my father," Teilla said innocently, "And to tell you that someone moved the outhouse back a little ways from where it should be."

Zorac gave a basso guffaw. Josie snickered, "Anyone fall in?"

"Actually, someone did," Ricardt gave a small grin, "A dark elf."

"Well," Zorac, let his chuckle die away, "As long as they don't blame each other and keep it out of Whizban."

"That does beg the question of why you let them in in the first place," Teilla noted. "I thought you tried to avoid situations like this."

"We do," Josie grimaced, "But Drizzt has a reputation going in his favor and the other group, while regulars at the festival for a while now, had someone with them who's been cleared for year round trading. Granted we had to look that Valas Hune character up and then the person who put a good word in for him..."

Zorac started chuckling again, "Then we had to tell Farnier that he might have a distant kinsman in town."

"The weaponsmith?" Teilla's jaw dropped in surprise. Ricardt felt his own surprise showing on his face. "Valas is kin of Farnier and Mir?"

"Valas Hune was noted down on our rolls as a regular trader by Bhindax Hune," Josie said seriously, "This Bhindax was referred to the rolls as a regular trader by Amaria Sparrowhawk. We had to check almost a century's worth of records to find the first entry. Then we got curious and had to check a little more..."

"I see," Ricardt tried hard not to smile. _Word really does travels fast in small towns._ Aloud he continued, "Going to tell Mir that when she gets out?"

"Of course," Zorac answered as if the answer was already agreed upon. "This Valas Hune might try to con something out of her or Farnier."

"Well, we should get to Uncle Gorbsen's before he sends a search party," Teilla said as she recovered from her surprise. "We'll see you both around."

Josie nodded and Zorac said, "We'll make sure the latrine gets covered again."

Teilla and Ricardt left the watch tower and headed across the tiny village to Gorbsen's tavern. The plain structure had the front window shuttered closed to keep the interior warm. A loud ruckus soon made itself heard from the tavern. The paladin frowned, _Something about it seems wrong..._

A woman's voice shrilled through the walls of Gorbsen's place, "How dare you try something like that!And that the rest of you all will just stand by and condone this low behavior!" Crashing noises followed soon after, as well as loud swearing in several languages, some of which Ricardt did not recognize.

"I'm going to go get Zorac and Josie," Teilla said as she turned and ran back to the watch tower. Ricardt nodded at her retreating back, got his shield on his arm, and ran into the tavern to see what he could do to get the altercation outside.

Instead of the orderly, if boisterous, noise and activity Ricardt remembered from the tavern on the last visit, chaos reminiscent of a battlefield greeted the paladin as he came through the door. A tall ruddy haired human woman stood near the door swinging a sword at a drow elf, who appeared to be concerned more with staying out of the way than riposting back.

A table had been up ended and barricaded one corner. The paladin saw a tiny little girl peek over the edge of the sturdy wood surface to be quickly pulled down by a black hand and a tanned brown one. A pair of dwarves, one with with green hair and beard plaited back over his ears kept pulling at another dwarf swinging a cudgel and a shield at three other dodging drow with wanton abandon for chairs, tables and any other inanimate objects that might get in his way. _None of the drow seem to be fighting back_, Ricardt realized. _Otherwise there should be a lot more blood on the floor._

He moved to bowl the human woman over and get her to stop swinging her steel around so. "Tyr's Justice," He shouted into the din, "Stop this nonsense!"

No one paid overt attention to him, which was not altogether unexpected. The paladin gently used his shield to push the woman into the wall. The dark elf took the opportunity to dash past both the woman and Ricardt and out the door. _I hope the watch gets here soon_, Ricardt prayed silently.

"How dare you defend them after what they did!" The red head shrieked in outrage at Ricardt. She pulled something black out of a pocket and shouted, "Guenwhyvar!"

"Lady, you should let the watch handle your issue with the drow. It might not have been..." Ricardt began, but stopped when he saw mist start to come out of the little statuette. "Oh, horseapples. Something's been summoned! Everyone out!"

"Ricardt!" An alto voice bellowed. Skapti, Gorbsen's sometime kitchen help, looked out from behind the table barricade, "Clear a way to the back door! There are children over here!"

The paladin left the woman sitting on the ground screaming accusations as he ran towards the barricaded corner. Something big, heavy and very very fast slammed into The paladin's back, bearing him to the ground. Ricardt's head bounced against the wooden floor and he felt something crack in one shoulder, but he could not collect his thoughts enough to feel overly concerned about it. He felt something large pressing down on him and suddenly the pressure went away. He looked to the side blearily and saw a very large black cat go after the three drow trying to avoid the rampaging dwarf. A much smaller spotted cat leaped between the the huge black panther and the drow, every hair standing on end and hissing like an overgrown house cat. _Josie shapeshifted_, he thought woozily.

Ricardt hauled himself up to his feet and stumbled to the table barricade, dimly aware that his shield arm hung limply useless at his side. He more or less fell over the top and into the laps of Skapti and a drow elf. He looked around a little more and saw four children of varying ages huddling wide eyed in the corner. The dark elf took a belt knife and cut the shield straps off the paladin's injured arm. Ricardt tried to get up but Skapti pushed him back down, "You ain't gonna be any good to anyone with your wits addled so, dearie." The large blond northwoman glanced at the drow peeking over the table and asked, "What's happening now?"

"The small cat is holding her own for now," the drow said in accented Common. "There's a half breed singing in the doorway and that ugly watchman is tying up the bitch who started it. The dwarves... by the Abyss!"

Ricardt pushed his way up and ignored the wave of dizziness and nausea that assaulted him. The big panther tried to move towards the three drow still avoiding the dwarf. Josie in her spotted feline form, pounced on the huge black cat's back, biting and clawing for all her worth. The panther rolled over the were-cat. Josie lost her grip, regained her feet and pounced the summoned creature again. The black panther swiped at Josie and caught her in midair, sending the constable crashing into a table near the barricade, mewling in pain. Zorac's stricken voice cut through the dwarf's crashing about, "Josie!"

The paladin saw Teilla start to make her way from the doorway around the the tavern's common room. Gorbsen poked his grizzled head out from the kitchens, saw Teilla and came out to guard her flank as they both kept to the walls. Ricardt stumbled over the overturned table and half fell, half jogged towards Josie. The constable made wheezy meowing sounds as Ricardt checked her over one handed. Her chest on one side felt squishy and very, very wrong. The paladin called up his faith and prayed, "Tyr, let your blessing mend this, your servant of justice and law."

It was nowhere near as strong a healing prayer from a full fledged trained priest, but Ricardt felt the broken ribs set themselves and mend. Josie's pained mews lost some of their wheezing quality. Ricardt heard Zorac shouting in a battlefield roar for the dwarves to stand down immediately. Something in the unarmed constable's voice shook the yellow haired dwarf out of his battle lust and the green bearded dwarf made odd little cooing noises that reminded Ricardt of pigeons. The paladin felt his dizziness and nausea return and he thought, _I'd like to lie down now_.

"Ricardt!" Gorbsen said urgently, "I need you in the kitchen, now! One of the drow mercenaries took an axe in the gut and I don't like having paying customers dying in here."

"I'll keep an eye on Josie," Teilla volunteered, "I was passed by a dark elf running for the priests of Kelemvor. There should be healers coming soon, I'd imagine."

Ricardt nodded vaguely. Gorbsen looked at the paladin concernedly and asked, "Son, are you all right?"

"No," the paladin said honestly, in too much pain to try to reassure the tavernkeeper, "But I'm less hurt than the elf with the gut wound. I'll see if I can call up a prayer for him."

In the kitchen, just inside the door, there lay an unconscious, grey faced dark elf with blood over most of his legs from a wound across his middle. Valas knelt over his fellow and had a couple of bloody towels pressed to the other drow. An ashen faced half-orc boy stood ready with a pot of steaming water and some more clean cloths draped over one arm.

Ricardt moved around to the other side of the wounded drow and quietly assessed the drow. _Not black hearted. At least I won't have to concentrate on the prayer while the mental alarms go off_, the paladin thought with some relief as he placed his hand on one side of the ugly gash. "Tyr allow this elf to live to discover what true justice is," Ricardt intoned quietly. He felt the magic trickle into the drow and close the wound part way. "I don't have anything else left, but I've heard that healers are on the way. He should make it."

Valas looked at Ricardt oddly, "Did you mean what you said?"

The paladin nodded and sat leaning against the wall. "It wouldn't work if I didn't believe you had the possibility to learn what it means." Ricardt heard someone start giving orders in the tavern common room. Belatedly, he realized that someone must have dispelled the summoned panther.

A square jawed, brown haired man Ricardt did not know suddenly appeared in his field of vision. _I must've dozed off_, the paladin thought muzzily. _I don't remember getting covered with a blanket or Teilla sitting next to me holding my hand. Feels nice though my head hurts like nothing else._

The half elf bard asked, "Will he be all right?"

The person, a priest of Kelemvor, nodded. "A bad concussion and a broken shoulder. From what I heard, it's more surprising you didn't give in to shock sooner, Master Arniss."

"Had things to do," Ricardt said tiredly.

Teilla gave a small chuckle and said, "Well, try to delegate next time. I like you better in one piece and awake."

Ricardt chuckled back. The priest looked at them like they were both insane and said, "I healed your head, but someone will have to take another look at your shoulder to get it back in full working order. Until then, get some rest."

"Did the the drow survive?" Ricardt asked.

"Yes," The priest answered, "So far anyway. Shock might still kill him. Now you rest."

"Is he awake?" Gorbsen's boisterous voice asked. Teilla's uncle looked in through the door to the kitchen. "So you are."

"We need to get him upstairs to bed," Teilla told him.

"I'll be all right," Ricardt protested, but the bard shushed him. The black haired paladin decided against arguing further and let Gorbsen and Teilla usher him up the stairs to a room and into a soft feather bed. The half elf and the tavern keeper got Ricardt out of his chain mail very carefully and pulled his boots off. Teilla tucked him in and the last thing that Ricardt remembered as he drifted into sleep was listening to Teilla playing a light gentle melody on her recorder.

--)-------- 

Author's note: Right then, This chapter seems very much like shameless self indulgence on my part, but I did get a request from my sister to pull a prank on Drizzt. I thought I could pull it off here. For those of you going, "Get on with it!" I can assure you that there will be few more interruptions past this point. As always, I love feedback of all kinds :)


	16. Glad Homeagain

Disclaimer: If you see a recognizable character, I did not come up with them. I'm just borrowing them for this hallucination that's taken over my life.

* * *

Mirandaline came out of the last portal in the chain closest to Whizban and started jogging along a starlit path she knew very well. She gloried in trickling return of her psionics from the shock from the mythal's touch. _I would have been fine if they didn't come back_, she told herself, _But it's such a relief to know I didn't do myself worse harm_.

The dark-wood elf fairly skipped down the trail and enjoyed the return of familiar surroundings. She found a number of black truffles hidden under a tree and gathered them up. _Someone will appreciate them when I get back_, she thought merrily. The moonlight was so welcome that Mir softly chanted a little song her mother had sung to keep her running cadence going. She heard familiar voices on the trail ahead of her and ran a little faster to catch up. "Joss!" she called.

"Mir?!" a rough male voice called back.

The dark wood-elf jumped over a low hedge and fairly bounced into a bear hug from the large man who sat at a campfire with a younger man who stood up and came around to greet her less exuberantly. "Hi Cris," Mir gasped as Joss squeezed the breath out of her.

"Hi Mir," Cris said brightly. "Heading to Whizban?"

"Only for a little bit," Mir sighed as Joss let go of her. "I'm running some errands for someone else. How are you two?"

"Actually, we're trying to get to Whizban in a hurry too," Joss said seriously. "We heard that the satyrs were planning a prank against someone visiting and thought we would try to warn them."

"Or at least set things straight, if we get there too late to do anything," Cris put in. "We also heard that Heinfor Sparrowhawk has been making his way up too."

"From the dryads right?" Mir grinned. "I'll bet you didn't know they could be great for getting news."

"Cris has been learning the past three years since you started ranging far afield," Joss clapped Cris on the shoulder. "Been remembering most of it too. Well, since you're here and we're all in something of a hurry to get into town, how about you make sure we don't run into anything and we'll follow you in."

"We're not all that tired," Cris volunteered staunchly.

Mirandaline nodded and they started off at an easy jog, fast enough to cover a lot of ground but slow enough so that neither Joss or Cris lost track of Mir in the starlight. After about an hour of jogging, they could see the lights from the village and monastery of Kelemvor. Mir could make out a lot of activity in the village for it being so late at night. "Somehow, I get the feeling we might be a little late to prevent misunderstandings," Mir said worriedly.

"Well, we can still help sort things out then," Joss said resignedly. "Lead the way."

After another short jog across the fields and into the valley where Whizban sat, Mir followed Joss and Cris into the constable's tower and was somewhat surprised to find the interior rather crowded. Zorac, a mixed race person of dwarf and orc ancestry, was busily taking statements from a drow elf. Mir recognized the dark elf as one of the mercenaries who came to Whizban every year._ I thought it was too late in the year for the Herb and Spell festival,_ Mir thought, puzzled. _What is he doing here then?_

Joss caught Zorac's attention and subsided to wait when Zorac acknowledged the ranger. Mir waved at the weathered constable and was rewarded with a wave back and something too small to be called a smile. Finally, he finished up with the drow mercenary and waved them over. He got up from his chair and gave the much smaller dark-wood elf a gentle hug and gave Joss and Cris each a firm handclasp. "Welcome back," He rumbled in greeting. "What can I do for you?"

"I think it's more a question of what we can do for you," Joss explained. "Cris and me got word that some satyrs were planning a prank. From the looks of it, I'm guessing it already went off."

Zorac tugged at his trimmed goatee in thought. "Did you happen to find out if they had a specific target in mind?"

Cris nodded and said earnestly, "They said someone was coming who had killed one of their favorite storytellers a while back. They felt a little bit of payback was warranted, I suppose."

"That actually does help," Zorac sighed. "The joke that they were probably referring to was moving the outhouse back a few feet. I'm thinking that the amount of trouble that resulted from one person falling in made their point well enough."

"Hopefully anyway," Mir chimed in.

"At least I know who's fully to blame for the fracas at Gorbsen's then," The stocky constable sighed in relief.

As if to punctuate Zorac's words, an angry woman's voice sounded from the back, where the holding cells were. "How dare ye hold me captive when I did nothin' wrong!"

Grumbling under his breath, Zorac heaved himself out of his chair and walked towards the holding cells. Curious, Mir, Joss and Cris followed. A human woman with long auburn hair in rumpled tunic and breeches stood in one holding cell with her hands on her hips. A yellow haired and bearded dwarf with one arm and a stump for the other sat grumpily on the bench in the other cell.

"Lady Battlehammer," Zorac began in firm measured tones,"Upon listening to what everyone has said, in all likelihood, you will not be allowed back into Whizban again. Nor you, Ivan Bouldershoulder. But that will be for the temple elders to decide."

"So ye won't let me here, but ye will let those underdark drow stay?!" Lady Battlehammer exclaimed in disbelief.

"They were not responsible and took pains to avoid getting into the fight," Zorac grated out. "You are staying there until further notice." He turned on his heel and plowed through Joss, Cris and Mirandaline to go back to his desk.

"Did anyone get hurt?" the dark-wood elf asked with concern.

"A couple of the mercs got hurt real bad," Zorac poured himself a cup of evil smelling tea. "That Ricardt and Teilla that you were traveling with for a while showed up in the middle of it. The bard is fine, but the paladin got smacked badly in the head and busted his shoulder pretty well. Both are at Gorbsen's now."

"I should go say hello then," Mir turned to start off towards the tavern.

Zorac stopped her. "There's a few more things I need to tell you."

"You two go on and tell Ricardt and Teilla I'll be there in a moment," Mir shooed the two rangers out. When they had left the watch tower, The psion turned to the constable and asked, "What is it?"

"You've been stringing those mercenaries along for a while now," Zorac began, but Mir cut him off.

"Spit it out," She glared at him.

"They brought someone who is likely a kinsman of you and Farnier," Zorac said matter of factly. "Valas Hune was on the entrance rolls as a safe trader, recommended by Bhindax Hune, who was recommended as a safe trader by your mother."

Mir felt her jaw start to drop and then she shook herself out of her surprise. "I need to tell them that I cannot join them. Ever. This doesn't change that."

Zorac breathed out in relief. "I thought that would probably be the case, but there's always the off chance that it wasn't. You _have _been a little remote when you are here, you know." Mir nodded mutely and her childhood friend continued, "You belong with other elves, mind-sister. Josie thinks so too."

"I've been finding out just how right you are about that," Mir gave a little smile, "I think I may have figured out a way to make a place for myself."

"That's good," Zorac nodded. "You heard Heinfor was coming to visit, right?"

"I did," Mir nodded. "I was planning on leaving with him for Myth Drannor."

"Good luck to you then," Zorac smiled. "You seem older than when you left. More... seasoned, maybe."

The dark-wood elf snorted, "I've always been older than you."

"Only in years silly elfie," The constable guffawed. "Everyone's been older than you in mindset for a while now. Go see your tavelmates, mind-sister."

Mir waved as she left and started off for Gorbsen's tavern in the center of the tiny village. She saw a few dark elves in the tavern's common room, but decided to ignore them in favor of heading up the stairs to Gorbsen's guest rooms. She heard voices coming form one of the rooms. Moving with habitual silence, Mir headed towards the sound.

She peeked inside and saw Teilla fussing over Ricardt, who busily protested that the bard did not have to deliver drinks to him. Mir knocked on the door and saw both of them turn their attention to her. Both of them turned their attention to her and gasped._ I forgot that they knew the condition set on me for returning home, _Mir thought. "Umm, hello," The psion said into the silence, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Not at all," Teilla got up from her sitting position on the bed. "Did you really manage to do Hi-... what you needed to do?"

"After a fashion," Mirandaline nodded, "And I had help. And it almost killed me anyway."

"But you made it out..." Ricardt stared at her.

Mir shifted on her feet uncomfortably. A knot of worry, forgotten when she had arrived in familiar terrain, returned to form a leaden feeling in the psion's middle. "I did, but I found out something that I need to get word to Myth Drannor for."

Teilla blinked. Ricardt asked, "What happened?"

Mir shook her head, "Not until after..."

"We put some distance between us and here," The bard said firmly. "No reason to let word get around to the strangers here."

Mirandaline looked at the half elf in amazement. _And here I thought I'd have to do it ll by myself._ Then another thought occurred to the dark-wood elf. "Were you heading there before I said anything?"

"Well, actually, yes," Teilla grinned. "I promised my pop a visit."

"If we wait a few days I maybe able to get a few more things sorted out and we can go there with Heinfor via the short cuts," Mir smiled in relief. "It won't take us long if we take those routes."

"Heinfor is your cousin, right?" Ricardt asked. when Mir nodded, he continued, "We should definitely go there with him then. You're running a message? He can help you get there more quietly."

Mir nodded again and said, "Well I think I'll let you get some rest and get better. I'm going to go tell the mercenaries that I'm not going to join up with them. Ever."

"I'll go with you," Teilla volunteered. Mirandaline was silently thankful for the moral support.

"And I'll stay here and rest some, like the healers have been bugging me to," Ricardt chuckled.

Mirandaline went down the stairs with Teilla following close behind. She expected to have to ask around to find where the drow mercenaries were staying this time, but one of them was in the common room talking with Gorbsen. The tavern keeper looked like he would have liked nothing better than to go to bed and get some rest. The dark elf looked like he would have liked to have done the same. Teilla commented without preamble, "You both look like you've been put through the ringer a few times, Valas, Uncle Gorbsen."

"I need to talk your commander," Mir told the plain faced drow elf, "If they aren't resting or among the injured from the evening's earlier excitement, that is."

The black skinned elf looked at Mir and said, "You're speaking to him. You must be the girl the Oblodran's been wanting to recruit for so long."

"He's going to be disappointed then," Mir answered lightly and made sure no sign of her nervousness showed through her face. "I'm not going to sign up with your group."

Valas cocked his head to one side and asked, "Not now or...?"

"Not ever," Some part of the psion was relieved at how easily and solidly the words came. "I've made other commitments. However, in the interest in maintaining a friendly working relationship, I would like to purchase some information off the group you represent."

Valas nodded and looked at her harder, "What do you need? And what can you trade for it?"

"What do you want?" Mir fired the question right back at the mercenary.

He looked at her speculatively, long enough for the psion to wonder if he intended payment in personal favors. "Are you familiar with a type of edible fungus, about the diameter of my palm, round, black and pockmarked?"

Frowning, Mir nodded. _Why is he asking about truffles?_ she wondered and looked at Teilla. The red haired half elf shrugged back.

"I'd like payment in those, if you will," Valas continued in a business-like tone. "I knew someone who had a source up here, but he never told me where he got them from."

"I take it they sell well in the Underdark, aside from just being tasty," Mir noted with studious disinterest. _Kinsman or no, he's still a profiteering drow, a n'tel'quessir I don't feel close to at all._ "I need information on a a place called Chaulssin. Who lives there, what organizations are based out of there and such other general information."

"Easy enough to get, I suppose," Valas mused. "It'll cost you five pounds of that black fungus. Up front."

"Do I look like a complete idiot to you?" Mir snickered, "I'll pay a deposit and you'll get the rest when I get my information. Say about a pound now and a sample for your own consumption?"

"Hmmm," Valas considered the counter offer. "Three pounds up front."

Mir snorted, "One and a half."

"Done," Valas agreed and the two elves shook on the deal. Mir rummaged around in her pack and produced the bag of truffles she had found on the way to Whizban. The drow mercenary weighed it in his hand and added, "I'll likely have the information to you in a few days if you can wait that long."

Mir considered the prospect. _At worst the information will be useless and have nothing to do with the spy close to the leaders of the Crusade, but there's always a chance that it isn't. Besides, if I wait for Heinfor, I'll save some time in scouting out an approach to deliver Kileontheal's message._ "I can wait for a day or two, but I do have places to go."

The drow nodded and slipped away, presumably to contact his superiors and get some rest. "Something's been set on the boil, hasn't it?" Teilla said quietly.

Mir nodded mutely. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into Mir," Gorbsen put in. "I'd be willing to bet that he's here instead of Chindrina due to some kind of internal scuffling."

"Why do you think I didn't ask for anything specific? " Mir gave a small smile. "You look like you should get to bed."

"You don't look so good yourself, missy," the tavernkeeper replied. "Teilla, if you could lock up?"

"Sure," Teilla readily agreed. "Mir, were you staying here or..."

"I should go let Farnier know that I'm alive and kicking," Mir headed for the door to the tavern. "I'll still be here in the morning."

* * *

Kileontheal paced through her workshop in one of Evereska's mage towers. It had become something of of a habit since summoning up Faenllach. _One of the People that apparently has drow blood playing with High Art though she is far too young to do so through more traditional means,_ The sun elf sighed internally. _I have not found reference to her teachers anywhere. I suppose that young Araevin's grumblings may perhaps be true, that she actually did pass through Kraanfhoar's door and came back with more than what she went in with..._

The mage shook herself out of her curiosity. _From the looks of it, Mirandaline is genuine. I suppose I've given the young lady enough of a head start to be close to arriving at Myth Drannor._ Kileontheal started to cast a minor communication spell that would allow her to speak a short message to Ilsevele Miritar, the leader of the elven army in Cormanthor since the demise of her father, Seiveril.

The High Mage called forth the Weave and shaped the message with her thoughts. _Lady Miritar, I am sending you a messenger incognito. There is a danger hidden somewhere near you. The messenger will have more details. Take care._

Kileontheal decided to try scrying around for a little bit to see if she could spot the drow spy on her own. The wards around the commanders in Myth Drannor were not insubstantial and the High Mage decided against breaking them to try to do something that would be better suited to those in the immediate vicinity anyway. _Besides_, The sun elf thought with a sigh. I_f I break through those wards, I will be leaving them vulnerable to other prying eyes. That I cannot condone._

She sighed and continued to research what she could about the names Faenllach had given her. After a while she realized, _I'm going to have to go back to Evermeet to see if I can find anything there. Hopefully someone will get back to me with information eventually._

To the mage's surprise her scrying glass seemed to ripple until it showed a sun elf with long red-gold hair and a plain suit of sliver mail sitting in what looked to be a tent. "Mage Kileontheal," she said formally, "To what do I owe this message?"

"There is likely a spy in your midst, Lady Miritar," Kileontheal answered briskly.

Through the mirror, Ilsevele Miritar snorted, "I'm quite sure there are. So which flavor are they? Zhents, Jaerle, Auzkovyn or Shade?"

"Quite possibly a new player," the mage answered. "I did not encounter them myself, my messenger did. I believe that they are likely to be closely connected to Mage Teshurr though. They were hunting for something magical in nature."

"How did your messenger come by this information?" Ilsevele cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes.

"She was looking for one thing and found something else in addition," Kileontheal answered evasively. "Mirandaline Sparrowhawk is her name. And she's likely to be arriving quietly. There are a lot of people in Evereska looking for her."

"Didn't you report a drow elf escaped from prison in Evereska a few days back?" The younger sun elf asked. "Would that be her?"

Kileontheal nodded, "It would be safer for her if fewer people knew she was coming and that she was doing so at my behest."

"I won't tell Araevin, then," Ilsevele gave a grimace. "It's been a year since he went to Kraanfhoar's door and tried to open it, but he still sometimes grumbles about 'the drow that beat him to it.'"

The selu'taar frowned in sudden concern, "Has he ever referred to her by name?"

"Once or twice in my hearing and not recently," Ilsevele answered.

"Thank Corellon," Kileontheal sighed in relief. "She still may have a chance of arriving in one piece."

"If any female drow are captured, I'll be sure to get a look at them," the ruddy haired sun elf assured the mage.

"Good," Kileontheal sighed in relief. "One thing, young Sparrowhawk is not a drow and will likely be somewhat insulted if you refer to her as such."

"I'll keep that in mind," Skepticism was writ across Ilsevele's face, but she did not gainsay Kileontheal's assertion. "I may be speaking to you at a later time."

Kileontheal nodded and replied, "Sweet water and light laughter until we next meet, Lady Miritar."

"Those have been in very short supply as of late," Ilsevele Miritar observed and then her face rippled in the mirror. When it cleared, only the selu'taar's reflection remained.

The sun elf elder turned and began to pack up her things to return to Evermeet. There were many things that she wanted answers to. She could only hope that she could find them before something unfortunate happened.

* * *

Author's note: I've probably scared a number of people off with the sheer length of this fic, so to those of you who have read this all the way through thus far, get up and give yourself a treat. I think you deserve it :)


	17. Prepping Resolve

Disclaimer: Meh. I'm tired of writing them.

--)--------

Teilla woke up in the chair she had been sleeping in. She rubbed at her eyes and looked at Ricardt sleeping peacefully in the room's single bed. His arm was still splinted immobile and he looked a little pale, but he slept soundly, snoring very softly. _Brave man, thy rest well earned_, she thought with a smile. The bard watched the paladin breathe evenly for a minute before getting up, tucking Ricardt's blanket around him more snugly and leaving to go downstairs to Gorbsen's kitchen.

Her uncle, built like a bear and about as hairy, sat at the kitchen table talking quietly with a stern looking woman in the plain brown garments favored by the monks of Kelemvor. Unwilling to intrude on their conversation, Teilla peeked into the tavern's common room.

It looked about as bad as it had the night before. Two tables had deep gouges from the magical panther's claws and the pieces of five chairs lay scattered around the large room. The table that Skapti and one of the drow mercenaries had used as a defensible barricade to keep those few children safe in the establishment when the fight broke out still took up one corner or the dining room. _It's going to take a while to put this place back together_, the bard thought morosely.

She glanced inside the kitchen and found Gorbsen still taking with the woman from the monastery. She decided to go fetch some water from the village well to do something useful and pass the time. _No one's likely to be up all that early after last night_, she thought as she slipped on a thick pair of socks and her boots before stepping outside into the chilly misty morning.

Thick grey clouds crept over the tallest peaks to the north. The sun had not yet crested over the mountains to the east and so the plain solid buildings of Whizban stood in the soft half light just before the dawn. A thick layer of frost coated the grasses and even some of the mud crunched underfoot. The half elf's breath fogged in the cold morning air. _I wish I had remembered to throw on a sweater over my shirt and trousers before coming outside_, Teilla grumbled inwardly.

To try to keep warm, she hurried out to the well. The bard filled her bucket up halfway so it would not slosh out as she hurried back to the tavern. She saw the devotee of the Judge of the Dead leaving as she came up on the door to the tavern. Gorbsen spotted the half elf and held the door open for her. "You didn't have to do that you know," He said as he took the bucket from her. "It's chilly out, get to the fire with you and I'll get some hot water going for tea. You're just about blue."

Teilla did not argue and instead gratefully made her way to the kitchen. Gorbsen followed after the bard and set about making some tea while Teilla found a comfy spot by the fire to warm up. "So who was the visitor?" she asked.

"That was Aerin, the abbess," Gorbsen answered quietly. "She's made a decision concerning who's going to be compensating me for the damages in my place and the result of the recommendations that Skapti and I had for one of the mercenaries."

"Which one?" Teilla's head felt a little fuzzy. _Too little sleep I suppose_.

"Taliir, the one who helped Skapti keep those kids safe in the middle of that brawl," the tavernkeeper gave a small smile. "We both said we wanted his name down as a safe trader."

The bard grinned, "He certainly earned it."

"Why else would we say we didn't mind having him here anytime?" Gorbsen laughed a little. "Turns out the hellion that marched in here and caused a ruckus has been hence forth banished from Whizban, effective as soon as her travel companions finish their business here. Her friends will not be held accountable for her lack of judgment and can still come through whenever they wish to, including their drow ranger."

"The famous Drizzt Do'Urden," Teilla chuckled. "I wonder if he'll meet Mirandaline and Farnier while he's here."

"Neither of them are likely to care as long as no one starts a fight," Gorbsen observed. "I take it that she finally came back?"

"She's staying at Farnier's now," Teilla told him.

"She'll soon have a surprise then,"Gorbsen gave a hearty laugh. "Lannlia's pregnant."

"Really?" Teilla exclaimed. Her uncle continued to chuckle and nodded. Teilla laughed, "So Mir's going to be an auntie. I'm going to look forwards to hearing about that."

"How's Ricardt?" Gorbsen asked as he poured her a cup of strong tea.

"Sleeping soundly," Teilla sipped at her tea. "When are they sending the healer to patch him back up the rest of the way?"

"Should be sometime this afternoon," Gorbsen poured himself a cup. "They wanted to make sure the worst hurt of the mercenaries had mended well first."

"All right," Teilla studied the leaves settling at the bottom of her cup. "Things seem to be happening faster somehow."

"Oh?" Her uncle put a smallish pot of stock on the fire to get going simmering for the day. When Teilla blinked at the little pot, he explained, "I can't very well open the tavern with the common room in shambles like that. You were saying something about things moving quickly?"

"I think Mir managed to get herself into hot water," Teilla said worriedly. "I don't know how deep or how hot though and it bugs me."

"You want to start traveling with her again don't you?" Gorbsen observed mildly. "She didn't send back much information in the letters she sent Farnier. Something has her very spooked I think."

"Probably having to deal with other elves is making her feel a little off kilter," Teilla thought out loud.

"Maybe. Maybe not," Gorbsen shrugged. "Has she said anything about what happened to get her out of that place?"

Teilla shook her head, "I think it was very stressful on her somehow and that she isn't quite sure how it came about either."

"Do you think you could stand wandering around with her while she figures it out?" Gorbsen asked gently. "It isn't likely to be easy."

"Ricardt probably will keep going," Teilla sighed, "At least until it looks like Mir has someone who can defend her."

"That could take a while," Gorbsen said noncommittally. "Elves can be very stubborn."

"She seems so much like a younger sister though," The half elf grumbled, "And Ricardt always needs someone to protect..."

"And you wish it was you?" Gorbsen grinned. Teilla spluttered incoherently and flushed bright red in response. The tavernkeeper grinned wider, "I've known Mir for longer than you have. She likes to choose her own protectors. Reasonable, since she usually knows what risks are around her better than anyone else. If you decide to travel with her again, you might want to try to coax it out of her."

"I might just do that," Teilla said as she continued to blush. "I think she'd feel horrible if she kept us in the dark."

Gorbsen nodded. Teilla finished her tea and started to help with the breakfast preparations. After a breakfast of porridge sweetened with honey, the bard walked out into the central "square" of Whizban. _This place looks a lot quieter when the festival isn't looming or going on_, She thought.

She walked through the packed dirt roads past the constables' plain stone watch tower to where Farnier, the weaponsmith, lived with his wife Lannlia. The red haired bard knocked on the door and was greeted by Lannlia. The tall blonde half elf wore a loose cream colored tunic and a long dark skirt. Neither did anything to hide her pregnant state. "I hear congratulations are in order," Teilla grinned.

"Thank you," the half elven woman smiled in welcome, "You can come into the sitting room with everyone else. And no, you may not pat my tummy. It causes the little one to start kicking."

Teilla laughed merrily as Lannlia led the way to a room that looked like it did double duty between a sitting room and an extra workroom. The warm room felt like it shared a wall with the forge. It felt a welcome contrast to the cool exterior. A much smaller fireplace in one corner had a few lit logs in it. All the windows had pressed glass panes to let the morning sunshine in.

Farnier, his dusky grey skin a sharp contrast to his shock of short coppery hair, sat and carefully cut feathers for arrow fletching. Mir sat cross legged on a window seat, absently rolling a ball of fuzzy grey yarn in her dark brown hands. Across from her perch on the same bench, a tall ruddy skinned and honey haired wood elf lounged in a green and white uniform that Teilla remembered seeing on her father the last time she saw him. _Someone from the army in Myth Drannor?_ the bard wondered. _Is that Heinfor?_

"I think you know everyone here, except for Heinfor," Lannlia said, confirming Teilla's guess. The wood elf gave a wave in response.

"I've heard some about you from Ewersod," Heinfor grinned. "Jassin mentioned running into you in Waterdeep."

"For a bit yes," Teilla frowned at the wood elf. "How did you get here? Last I heard you were still en route."

"He knows the portals around here," Mir said quietly. She put down the grey yarn and picked up a loose skien of soft looking dark green yarn. "Hands, please," She asked. Heinfor held his hands up before him. Mir draped the skein over them and started to wind the yarn into a ball. "Almost as well as I do," The dark-wood elf added.

"Yes, well, I'm not in as good graces with some of the fey guarding them as you are," Heinfor grinned. "Aunt Amaria knew all of them. I imagine she introduced you."

"She did," Mir smiled. "So, Jassin sent word to you?"

The wood elf nodded, "Some mage named Kileontheal sent the message for him. I needed to get away from Cormanthor anyway. This place is much nicer than Sembia."

"Can't argue with that," Teilla agreed. "So, Mir..."

"I've got to go to Myth Drannor," The archer kept winding her ball of yarn and avoided looking at the bard. "It's likely to be dangerous. I've a feeling that the people I'm trying to counter are way out of my league..."

"If you think risk is going to put me off going with you, boy have you a surprise coming," Teilla stepped over to tower over Mirandaline. "How else am I going to write a great epic ballad? Ricardt will have to follow to try to keep us both out of trouble."

"We told you so," Lannlia and Farnier chorused. The weaponsmith added, "Did you really expect any less of them?"

The dark-wood elf put her head back and shut her eyes. "I would feel more reassured if the bad guys didn't scare me so much."

"That's why you need Ricardt around," Teilla said lightly, but inwardly she worried, _How bad is it really?_

"I'm sworn to serve the Tel'Quessir," Heinfor said it as if it were obvious. "Besides, no one's allowed to pick on Mir. Except family." Mir levitated a ball of yarn and "threw" it at her cousin's head. He grinned and let it bounce off in favor of keeping the skein untangled.

"Well, Ricardt should be out and about by this afternoon," Teilla tried to suppress her snickering with partial success.

"Good, we can get going then," the wood elf grinned in anticipation. "They can't be as bad as the Daemonfey."

Mirandaline looked at Heinfor as if he had lost his mind. "We can't leave yet. I hired Valas Hune to scare up some information for me. I need to go gather the rest of his fee."

"The name sounds familiar," The wood elf frowned, "What's the payment?"

"Four more pounds of black truffles," Teilla said with curiosity. "Why?"

"I'd heard there were drow in town, but I didn't think it was that group again," Heinfor said musingly. "Was Bhindax with them?"

Farnier frowned and shook his head, "They're mostly unrelated independents who've been showing up to the Spell festival more or less every year. None of them are named 'Bhindax.'"

"Huh," Heinfor shook himself out of his reflections. "If you ever run across him, be sure to ask him what happened between him and my father. I'm really kind of curious."

Mir looked hard at Heinfor. So did Teilla. _Now I'm curious about what happened... _the bard grumbled inwardly. "So, who's up for truffle hunting?"

The dark-wood elf finished rolling the skien of soft yarn into a ball and put it into the basket. Heinfor got up and stretched out. "Have you ever hunted for truffles before?" he asked.

The bard shook her head. Mirandaline chuckled, "You'll want to wear something you don't mind getting a little muddy."

--)--------

True to what the dark-wood elf had predicted, Teilla's hands and knees were truly grimy and covered in dirt by the end of the day. The sun quickly receded behind the western peaks, bathing the valley in golden light. On the other hand, they had a full five pounds of ugly, black, pungent fungus. Heinfor had ended up coming along for the hunt and carried another bag of his own. "It's for the rest of my scouting group," the wood elf said sheepishly. "I promised I'd bring something back for them."

"I have to say," Teilla said as she wrinkled her nose, "I don't see the appeal of eating these things."

"If you want the taste of mushrooms in something, a little of these goes a very long way," Mirandaline laughed. "Any extra are going to Farnier. Things slow down around here during the winter."

As they walked back into Whizban proper, Teilla saw a black haired figure walking out to meet them. After a minute, the bard realized who it was and exclaimed, "Ricardt!"

She handed off her bag of truffles to a laughing Mir and ran into Ricardt's arms. "Worried much?" the paladin smiled as he hugged her.

"Only that you getting clocked in the noggin would land me with a crusading muffinhead," The bard grinned and snuggled into his embrace.

The two elves caught up to Ricardt and Teilla. "I'd heard you managed to come back, Mir, but I thought it was the concussion talking," The paladin looked the small elf up and down, "You seem to be in one piece though..."

"I've got to do a few things," Mir told him. "They aren't exactly safe..."

"You'll have help," Heinfor said staunchly. "If you were stuck somewhere Mage Teshurr wanted to be, something important had to have happened while you were there."

"I'll..." Ricardt started.

"I already told her we'd help," Teilla grinned at him.

"Well, all right then," The paladin let go of Teilla and said with amusement, "I suppose it's good to be predictable sometimes."

"I'm Heinfor Sparrowhawk," the tall wood elf introduced himself, "You must be Ricardt."

"That I am," The paladin nodded as they started back towards Gorbsen's.

Before they got there, a familiar plain faced drow elf intercepted them. "Mistress?" Valas asked and produced a small stack of papers from inside his decorated vest. "The information you requested. You have my payment?"

The dark-wood elf nodded and divided up her bags until she handed over the agreed upon amount of four pounds with the delivery. "Your people work fast," she commented mildly.

"We have an interest in this group," Valas shrugged. "If you happen to run into anyone purporting to be from this place, we'd like to know about it."

"I'll keep it mind," Mir replied blandly. "Are we through?"

Valas gave a sardonic smile, crossed his arms over his chest and bowed slightly. Mir returned the gesture and the drow slid past them, heading for Sandra's tavern, the one other place that catered to travelers in Whizban. "What was all that about?" Heinfor asked, curiously. "And what was that thing with the crossed arms?"

"It's a sign of 'peace' or truce,'" Mir answered. "I'll tell you what it was about later, cousin."

"Right," Heinfor nodded. "So, the portals?"

"The portals," the archer agreed. "Did either of you need to do anything before we leave?"

"I just need to give Uncle Gorbsen a hug," Teilla told her. "And to wash."

"Good, because I have a round of hugs to give out around here before I take off again," Mir grinned. "Meet you both here in the morning?"

"We can do that," Teilla grinned back.

--)--------

Author's note: In case anyone wonders, no, Drizzt did not leave his jailed friends behind, and is busy making arrangements to pay damages, but his bit part in this is done :)

I anticipate the action picking up a bit as well, but this story is still a long ways from the end.


	18. Have Nots

Disclaimer: I wish I were a canon FR fanfic, that is what I'd truly like to be. But since I'm not a canon FR fanfic, Wizards can't go get all mad at me.

--)--------

Ricardt watched Mirandaline lead the way to the second portal of the day. The woods felt chilly and he pulled his cloak a little tighter around himself to keep the cold out. Teilla looked snug in a soft knitted over tunic under her own grey traveling cloak. The dark-wood elf's long coat had changed in color from mottled light grey brown and green to a mottling of dark grey, brown and black. She'd explained it as too much time on the Shadow plane. Heinfor trailed behind wearing a pale grey green cloak that seemed to want to blend into the landscape. _Something has changed Mir_, Ricardt realized. _Teilla too, I think_.

He thought about it for a while as they hiked through the chill autumn wilderness. Mirandaline had been negotiating with the various fey creatures guarding the portals. Mostly the dark-wood elf simply pointed out to them that she was Amaria Sparrowhawk's daughter and Brisslee of Deepwood's student. The ease with which they got through the guardians left the paladin wondering exactly what Mir's mother had been to the fey and where Brisslee the dryad fit into it. The swift pace the small elf set left him wondering what she ran from.

Night appeared to fall quicker as they got closer to Myth Drannor. Mir called a halt before a rockface and said, "We're going to go through the last gate soon. I need to make a few preparations before going through."

"Sounds like part of a plan," Ricardt observed mildly, "But not the whole of it. You haven't explained much since we left Whizban this morning."

The dark-wood elf nodded and waved them around the rock face. "There's a hot spring around here," she said softly. "I need to get my hair wet to get black dye in it."

"That is not an answer," The paladin frowned.

"No it isn't," Mir agreed. "I'm getting there. I was sent out from Kraanfhoar to check out a group of dragon blooded drow on the plane of Shadow."

"We ran into a few of those early this summer," Teilla noted. "Breaking into a place called Shaalkar Manor."

"Jassin told me about that place," Heinfor chimed in. "He said that until the Shadovar returned, that place had claimed more lives than any other mausoleum that the Tomb guard had tried excavating. Nasty traps that no one had any luck detecting."

"Kaeldin and Lilleen knew something about the location,"Mir told him. "They said that Miyeritari scouts and spies venturing into such places were often killed with spells of darkness and shadows."

Heinfor looked at his cousin with worry, "That isn't good. Drow should not have any magic left over from the Crown Wars at their disposal."

"Much less Aryvaandar magic," Mir shuddered in agreement. "I found coded documents that seem to suggest that they did find something in those ruins. There's more. I could feel someone using shadow magic around Whizban late last night. It seemed far off and the town _is _close to Shade, but still..."

"Ailesel Seldarie," Heinfor swore.

"Tyr's Justice," Ricardt breathed. "Drow elves can be vicious foes without ancient magic to help them along with it."

"You can clearly see the cause for worry then," Mir said with false lightness. They got to a steaming pool of water surrounded by rocks and boulders. A fuzzy looking coat of moss covered all the stones but the ones nearest the pool. Those had a coat of slimy algae over them. The dark-wood elf let her pack down, pulled off her coat and pulled a bowl out of her travel pack. "Teilla, can you help me? I've never tried dyeing my hair before."

"Not a problem, Mir," The bard grinned. "Mother taught me how to do such things when we were traveling with an acting company in Sembia. I even know a spell to get it all dried off in a trice. You were saying something about drow and Crown Wars magic?"

"It's a bad enough combination," The dark-wood elf said as Teilla dumped warm water over her head. "The ones that waylaid me... one of them had been one of the nastier recruiters from the Auzkovyn and the other had this slimy feel about his magic. Teboyn and Izzyraen. Izzyraen changed shape and had the icky feeling magic clinging to him. Teboyn was the former Auzkovyn."

Heinfor frowned, "I didn't think that mind magic could interact with weave magic."

"It can, with a lot of work," Mir said shortly, "Izzyraen's didn't feel like either one. Little Weave workings feel like a little like the static sparks after you scuff wool socks over thick rugs and touch a doorknob. Bright and warm. Major ones feel like whatever their creators were feeling. Usually a layer of emotions over resolve in the two major workings I've encountered. This was not the Weave."

"I've heard something of Shadow magic from the auxiliaries from Evereska," The wood elf noted. "From your description, that might be it but I'm no expert in such things."

"You mentioned before we left that you'd found information that indicated that someone from these drow-dragons was hiding close to the leadership in the elven Crusade," Ricardt reminded Mir as Teilla poured something that looked like thin black tar into her hands and began to work it into the archer's long pale grey hair, scalp to tips. "What would they be after... Wait a minute, Araevin's transformation."

Teilla nodded in agreement, "A magical transformation that gives the person who undergoes it more personal power for one and allows them to play with high magic by themselves for another? Assuming they can find any lore on the subject..."

"Which might be why they broke into Shaalkar Manor to start with," Ricardt finished. "That would be bad."

"That would be the understatement of the year if it came to pass," Heinfor said grimly. "So are we flushing the dhaerow bastard out or..."

Mir started to shake her head, but Teilla hissed, "Hold still!"

The dark-wood elf obediently did so and said, "I don't think it would be smart to tip them off yet that we know they're there. We still don't know how close they are to Lady Miritar and the other leaders of Evermeet's army. We spook them without any preparation and they might be close enough to kill some of the leadership before anyone can do anything about it."

"Considering that at least half of us aren't planning on going back to the island, you might want to start thinking of it as Myth Drannor's army, eyas," Heinfor grinned.

"You didn't tell me you were staying," Mir said grouchily. Teilla started to rinse the elf's hair again. "I'd think you'd tell me these things."

"I thought you could read minds," The wood elf countered but he was grinning when he said it. Ricardt got the feeling that this used to be a game between them.

"I do not," the archer shot back but the paladin saw her smile when she did so. "It's too much work without physical contact most times. And it's impolite."

"And how did you always knew when Father, Aunt Amaria or I was around?" Heinfor smirked in anticipated victory. "You always hid or started crying when Father came around when you were really little."

"You're family," Mir said simply. "That's different. I'm closer to you than most other elves. Wouldn't you say it seems reasonable that I can sense you better?"

"Fair enough," the wood elf scout agreed, still smirking. Teilla murmured a quick spell and a small cloud of water vapor removed itself from Mirandaline's new glossy black hair. The dark-wood elf started to plait it back so it wouldn't get in her way when she moved.

"So you try to get us in to see Ilsevele Miritar so Mir can relay her report," Ricardt reiterated. "Then what?"

"Well, I would think that we'd head back to Kraanfhoar," Teilla said as she rubbed sand into her hands to clean them of the black dye. "We know there are at least two people there who presumably know more about countering such magic than anyone else."

"I promised I'd go back anyway," Mir added determinedly. "Just because I managed to get out by some fluke, doesn't mean I should go back on my promise."

"No one is asking you to, either," Ricardt said soothingly. "Are you about ready to go?"

"Almost," Mir blacked out her pale eyebrows and lashes. "Now I'm ready to go."

They went back around to the stone arch and were met by a strange looking creature that looked like it had just stepped out of the bottom of a glacier, all rocky edges and and icicles. "Who are you that would disturb my charge?" it asked in a voice that seemed to echo on its own.

"I, Mirandaline Sparrowhawk, daughter of Amaria Sparrowhawk and student of Brisslee seek safe passage to Cormanthor," Mir stepped forwards and intoned in Sylvan.

"Your mentors are known to me, child," The creature intoned in a deep grinding voice. "As friends. You speak the truth as well. You and yours may pass without challenge."

"Many thanks, Earthfather," the dark-wood elf bowed respectfully. The portal awakened with the strange being's touch in a liquid ripple of stone.

They all jumped through the portal, Heinfor leading. Ricardt found himself in a damp forest near a rocky outcropping. Mirandaline bumped into his back. "Heinfor?" she asked. "Where do we need to go?"

The wood elf nodded off to the left. "That way."

Heinfor led them along an overgrown trail. Ricardt felt sure he would have gotten lost without the wood elf guiding him. The bushes still held a bit of green in their leaves. Autumn had not quite solidified it's hold on the great forest of Cormanthor. The plants had not quite gone to sleep for the winter yet.

After a few hours of hiking, Mir, guarding the rear, gasped, "I think we just came into the boundary of the mythal."

"Really?" Teilla asked curiously.

The archer nodded, "It's a very... disjointed weaving. Evereska's was not as strong, but it was cohesive."

They continued on for a while longer. The thick undergrowth started to thin out and the paladin could see glimpses of stone ruins twisting through the trees here and there. As they continued the trees started to thin out until they suddenly walked through a weedy courtyard with crumbling stone walls on either side of the path under their feet. Ricardt kept a sharp eye out for anything sneaking up on them. _Everything I've heard says this __place is crawling with monsters and devils of all stripes..._ he thought.

"Most of the more unpleasant denizens have been cleared out," Heinfor's lilting tenor interrupted the paladin's musing. "We're not likely to encounter anything this close to the city on the surface. The tunnels underground are quite a different story."

Sure enough, Ricardt started to see more elves as they neared the center of the city. Most of them were pale moon and sun elves, most likely recruits from Evermeet. Occasionally they would cross paths with a coppery wood elf or a dark haired green elf scout. The paladin saw a few humans, likely Dalesmen, and felt somewhat less out of place than he did with only elves around. He glanced over at Teilla and Mir to see how they handled the new immersion. Mirandaline alternated between looking very relaxed, almost happy, and looking around very warily. Teilla seemed the way the bard usually was, centered and unafraid of her fellow elves.

_Curious how they both don't belong but to one it doesn't matter so much_, Ricardt thought. He remembered Teilla telling him that the dark-wood elf outright refused to join the Underdark mercenaries in no uncertain terms. _Seems like Mir's decided to make a place for herself. Good for her._

They proceeded along a stone paved road with weeds still stubbornly growing between the cobblestones. Canvas stretched between the remains of walls created sheltered spaces for barracks, armor and weapon smiths, kitchens and all the other things that an army of elves needed to operate on a day to day basis._ It can't have been a year that they've been here and already they look like they have reclaimed the city,_ Ricardt thought as he looked around at the bustle in and out of the tented buildings.

Heinfor led them to a mostly intact house with barricaded windows and sentries alertly guarding the entrance. The two burly sun elven guards challenged the wood elven scout. "I'm escorting a special messenger," He answered evenly.

"For whom?" One of the guards asked suspiciously.

"I am to speak to Lady Miritar," Mirandaline said quietly as she stepped forward, "On a friendly mage's orders. No one else."

The sentry who had spoken looked at his cohort. The other one quietly cast a spell over the paladin, bard, scout and psion. Then he paused and cast another. "Please repeat that," The caster ordered firmly. Mir did so, word for word. The door guard evidently was satisfied and said, "Wait here. you will be escorted to Lady Miritar."

Ricardt leaned over and whispered in the psion's ear, "You don't really think they're going to let you alone with the leadership, do you?"

The dark-wood elf brushed the paladin's hand with hers and he caught a whiff of the ferny scent of her psionics. Mir's voice softly echoed in his head, _It won't matter_.

He mentally kicked himself for forgetting something so simple. He "heard" Mir chuckle as she withdrew from his head. The sentry returned with a very tall person behind him. At first, Ricardt thought it was a human in armor, but as he came closer, the pointed ears and wide, slightly tilted eyes made clear his error._ I don't think I've ever seen a moon elf that tall before._

"Which of you is the messenger?" The tall moon elf asked in a tired voice.

Mirandaline raised her hand. The moon elf looked around at the rest of them. "Are the rest of you coming in too? If so, there will be guards."

"They come," The psion piped up. "You're likely to put guards in regardless of what I ask for."

The big moon elf's mouth twitched in half a smile. "True enough. This way."

He led them through the stone building into a room with a translucent theurglass skylight. A coppery haired female sun elf in silvery chainmail sat at a table with two other more heavily armored blond sun elves carefully poring over what looked like an underground chart. Another sun elf, slimmer of build and carrying an armload of rolled papers in addition to a few wands on his belt nudged the coppery haired female. She looked up and asked in Elven, "Guests, Starbrow?"

"A messenger, Ilsevele," The tall moon elf, Starbrow answered.

"Where from?" the shorter of the two armored sun elves asked.

"Mage Kileontheal," Mirandaline answered in Elven. Ilsevele looked sharply at the dark-wood elf and Mir continued, "It's regarding the escaped prisoner."

"Can you give me the message now?" Lady Miritar asked.

The psion nodded, "I need your hands, Lady Ilsevele."

The sun elf hesitated, but held out her hands palms up. The psion gently touched them with her hands and Ricardt caught a whiff of damp forest scent as Mir used her psionics again. The dark wood elf gently touched Ilsevele's hands and then let go. After a few moments of looking at each other, Ilsevele blinked and frowned at the psion. "You're..." The sun elf looked hard at the dark wood elf in her disguise, "I didn't think such a thing possible. Kileontheal was right."

"I'm sure she gets that a lot," Mir answered with a small smile. "Mages always seem to know more than they let on."

Ilsevele chuckled a bit. Mirandaline giggled in response and her face darkened a bit._ Is she blushing?_ Ricardt thought in amusement. _And here I thought that there wasn't anything in the multiverse that could get a wood elf to blush_. Teilla snickered softly beside the paladin. She had caught it as well. _Teilla will probably pry it out of our little archer later._

"I will send for you again later," Ilsevele told them and turned towards Starbrow. "'Til then... Love, can you see them comfortable? I'll be along shortly."

Starbrow frowned at both Ilsevele and Mirandaline, but inclined his head in an informal bow and indicated that the group should precede him out. "Have the drow been behaving themselves, captain?" Heinfor asked.

Starbrow nodded. "They've cut back on their raiding for the time being."

"They're probably starting to get more concerned with their winter supplies," Ricardt commented. "They might start to steal from your stores to supplement theirs."

"We have some hidden places they are not likely to know about," Starbrow smiled then his expression turned to puzzled. "I know Heinfor Sparrowhawk from the scouts from Evermeet and the short dark one is the messenger we've been expecting. Where do you and Red fit in, Sir Knight?"

"I was hoping to visit my father, Captain Starbrow," Teilla said in formal elven. "He's Ewersod Ollinirae, the bladesinger."

"I see," The moon elf looked at her carefully. "He said he was going to check on his daughter when he last left on leave. That was you?"

"Yes it was," Teilla nodded regally. "I promised I would return the favor."

"I'm here to try to keep her safe from brigands," Ricardt chuckled. "The ones she can't talk herself away from anyway. I'm Ricardt Arniss, in service to Tyr."

Starbrow nodded and led them into a smallish room, furnished with camp chairs and tables of elven make. Their folding hinges merged into carvings in the wood so that they appeared seamless to the unobservant. "Would you all care for some refreshment?" The swords-elf asked.

Ricardt shook his head, as did Mirandaline. Teilla nodded her acceptance of the offer and Heinfor laughed, "I'm always good for a drink. Did you even have to ask?"

Starbrow grinned in reply and got up to whisper to someone outside the little sitting area. Mir waited until their host came back and asked curiously, "Why does it seem like you're closest to Lady Miritar and one else? I would have thought you would have at least a few more ties close by."

The big moon elf looked at the psion with a mild look of shock on his face. _What is Mir talking about?_ Ricardt wondered. _She hasn't spoken any falsehood about anything she's learned thus far, but I really wonder what she's going on about now._

"I returned to Faerûn only recently," Starbrow answered uneasily. Mir frowned at him but otherwise said nothing. Instead she glanced up at the door they had come through expectantly. A moment later it opened and Ilsevele Miritar came in to join them.

"Someone has been sent for refreshments, yes?" She asked hopefully. Starbrow nodded and she continued, "You pointed out that our enemies may have increased without our knowledge, Mir Sparrowhawk. You think that the... teachers in the place you were last may have some knowledge of their capabilities?"

_She's worried about eavesdroppers,_ Ricardt realized with some relief. _That mind contact of Mir's doesn't seem to allow for major falsehoods and Lady Miritar choose to believe it. At least it seems like Mir got off to the right start here. I hope that she does find a place among these elves._ He remembered the message that the church of Tyr had been leaving for him. _I need to send word that they will have to wait until after this mess gets sorted out. At least it's been clearly marked as "at the earliest opportunity." Hopefully Teilla will still be up for travel. Going to one of the Knight Orders without her there would not be fun at all._

The disguised dark-wood elf nodded in response to Ilsevele's query. "I was told by people with firsthand experience of such magic, that it was difficult to guard against truth but there were ways of doing so. In any case, none of them could possibly involved with the problems here."

"The same could not be said if you were to ask about this variety of magic through your normal means," Teilla noted. "Particularly since the information would doubtless find its way to many ears afterwards or even before."

"I was very isolated in that citadel," Mirandaline added. "Spirits who are known to the living souls within it cannot get inside."

"Do you trust Kileontheal?" Ilsevele asked. Mir nodded solemnly and the copper haired sun elf continued, "I'll inquire through her. Meantime, I wish you to go gather what answers you can find from those who taught you. I will send a few of my own people to accompany you."

Ricardt started, "But..." Ilsevele glared at him and he subsided. _But we don't know who the spy is and there's always a chance that you could send them with us_, he finished internally.

"I can send Filsaelene, Maresa Rost, Nesterin, and perhaps Jorin," Starbrow said uneasily. "You will likely need the extra people to guard against monsters I'd suppose."

"Please send for them," Ilsevele told him mildly. Starbrow nodded and left to speak to someone outside.

"If you have to," Mir echoed the tall moon elf's reluctance. Ricardt heard the psion's voice softly murmur in his head, _We're acting as bait to flush the spy out. See if they won't move up or alter their plans with rumors of this circulating. I'm telling Teilla and Heinfor the same thing now, so at least we can be on our guard._

_They probably aren't the agents Lady Miritar is hoping to flush out then,_ Ricardt answered back.

_Don't know_, The dark-wood elf replied. _I hope not._

They took the proffered refreshments in nervous silence. Ricardt stewed in worry as a slim blond male elf, another sun elf female, a male half elf in woodsman's garb and the pale air genasi dressed all in red. As Maresa Rost walked in, the genasi looked at Ricardt and Teilla and said, "You both look familiar."

Ricardt successfully kept his anxiety off his face as introductions were made. Nesterin turned out to be the fair skinned, yellow haired male elf, carrying a slim sword and dressed primarily in white and grey. Jorin Kell Hathan was the half elven ranger with sun browned skin and bark brown hair. Filsaelene wore the paraphernalia of a priestess of Corellon and looked a bit out of sorts with the company.

Ilsevele briefed them on what they were doing and where they were going. When she dismissed them to gear up for travel, Ricardt hoped that they would flush out the spy without much trouble in Myth Drannor. Somehow, he doubted it would be so easy.

--)--------

In his rooms in the City of Wyrmshadows, Sharnar checked over his travel pack and made sure everything was in order for his foray into Evereska's libraries. The faerie elves there had one of the better libraries of old elven magic in or below the continent. _Short of sneaking into Evermeet anyway_, he thought with a chuckle. _I should have enough polymorph potions to last for a while. This is likely to take a while._

Sharnar struck a tindertwig on the underside of his desk and lit the small votive everlasting candle he kept on his desk to read documents by. He sipped at a glass of heartwine stolen from the divided city of Eryndlyn before sitting down in a comfortable rothe-hide chair and beginning to peruse the latest report from Teboyn and Izzyraen.

_Idiot bumblers_, he grumbled inwardly, _To be "inescapably" detained by small creatures gnawing out their tent lines. Next mission they get will be as battle fodder if I can manage it._

The wizard set aside their written excuses and began to read Gorruan's report. _Perhaps he will have gleaned yet another effect of the telmiirkara neshyrr off of his "superior,"_ Sharnar thought hopefully. _Or perhaps some tidbit we could sell to the Auzkovyn and or the Jaelre_.

The dragon blooded drow absently rubbed at his smoky scaled brow ridges as he read the report. He choked on his fine wine as he read the last page. _No, he can't have gotten that lucky..._

Sharnar reread the final page of the report. _A special messenger with human and half-human companions, sent to an undisclosed location with that planetouched Rost? Teshurr's confidante?_

The mage looked at the descriptions of the troupe again. _A dark haired human male wearing chainmail and a blue surcoat with a white balanced scale on it. A half human female with somewhat curly red hair and a recorder on her belt. They sound a lot like the pair I had the two cretins follow... What about the messenger... _He scanned the report a little more. _Small female elf, dark brown skin, black hair, green eyes, dark clothes, carried a short recurve bow. Something seems familiar about that..._

Mind spinning over the new information, he rummaged through his reports to something recent. _Teboyn's botched acquisition of one mongrel female elf, called Duskhunter by some. Brown skin, grey hair, green eyes. Wore a long dark coat, carried a bow._

Still thinking hard, Sharnar got up and rummaged through the reports again. _The report from when Teshurr first returned from his attempt on Kraanfhoar's door, when the faerie elf was still sore about not getting in... Was there a description of "the drow who beat him to it" while on a trip with Maresa Rost?_ Finally, he found Gorruan's year old report from eavesdropping on the surfacer mage. _Small female, dark brown skin, green eyes, pale grey hair. Supposedly got through Kraanfhoar's door. _

"It's the same girl, with her hair dyed," Sharnar whispered into the empty room in sudden realization. "Vhaeruan's mask. Someone who can get into the greatest drow relic left of the Crown Wars."

He sat down at his desk chair, rummaged around for a scrap of parchment and a pen and started to draft a missive to Gorruan. His pen danced over the vellum to keep up with his thoughts. _He needs to follow them. Make whatever excuses he needs to get away from Myth Drannor. Take Teboyn and Izzyraen with him, they know what this girl looks like. She needs to be taken alive and in one piece only if they can do it without any of her companions getting an alarm out. If no opportunity presents itself, go back to Myth Drannor and wait for her there. Less risk for me, since none of them are as versed in ancient lore as I am. They wouldn't know what they were looking at once they got into the library._

Sharnar looked at the sheaf of copied sheets from the spellbooks he had found in Shaalkar Manor, ready to go with him on his research trip to Evereska._ I'll keep an ear out if they end up heading towards the city in the Greycloak mountains. A chance at opening the greatest library buried in the Crown Wars and having exclusive access to its contents._

_And when I gain access, the council will not be able to deny me the rank of Patron Father._ Sharnar savored the old dream as he did his stolen wine, with long slow sips.

--)--------

Author's note: Oh, I love it when plots start to bud and fruit. Please leave a comment ^.^


	19. Bait

Disclaimer: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! (runs around in circles)

--)--------

Almost as soon as Sharnar stepped through his spell crafted portal into a remote, starlit section of forest a few hours walk from the Halfway Inn, a small folded message found its way into his hands. _If it is Teboyn again I am going to kill him very slowly without further ado on my part_, The mage thought grumpily. _If he cannot understand a simple rendezvous instruction, clearly he's useful only as carrion._

_Lucky Teboyn_, he grumbled inwardly. _Gorruan is sending me a note._ The dragon blooded drow looked through the message. _He thinks the messenger was sent to the High Moor... Caught Teshurr making a number of acid loaded crossbow bolts for Rost "to take care of trolls." Wants to know if I want to lead that expedition and let him go poking around the surfacer libraries. Sounds more like he wants to try his hand a stealing my notes on the Rite of Transformation than furthering my goals. As if he knows the theory that makes it work in the first place. Hmph. He's an indifferent arcanist at best, should stick to sword swinging and leave the spell slinging to those better suited to it_.

_Besides, it isn't as if we don't have access to records of all the failed attempts on Kraanfhoar's Door by adventurers from Eryndlyn_, Sharnar rolled his eyes. _And he can enlist a few of his house's guards should he see a need for them. If they can get in, fine, but I still want the messenger alive for interrogation. I'd be willing to bet that Gorruan will not know the best questions to ask her, even if they do manage a miracle and get in._

The wizard quickly jotted his reply and sent it back to his agents before starting on the road to Evereska.

--)--------

Teilla noticed the tension in Heinfor, Mirandaline and Ricardt. In fact, she shared it wholeheartedly. _Going back into the High Moor is not my idea of fun_, she thought, _Particularly when we aren't sure if we are being followed or not._

As soon as they hopped through the first portal, Mir looked carefully at all of the newcomers. Teilla got the distinct impression that the psion was looking for something specific around Ilsevele's additions to their little group. The bard walked up to to psion and asked, "What was all that about?"

Mir looked at her and said with no small amount of relief, "I think the spy would have the greasy feel of shadow magic about them in some degree. No one here has it."

"And when Ilsevele let go of your hands?" Teilla asked slyly. "Dark skin tone or no, you were blushing, sylvan elf."

"Oh," Mir flushed again. "Lady Miritar wanted proof of my... my elf-ness for lack of a better term. She was surprised at how warm the memory was and said so. It seemed such a small thing, sitting around a fire, listening to stories when I was little."

"Well, now," Maresa Rost walked up to Mir and Teilla, her blueish white hair aswirl in a nimbus around her pale face. "Both of you two seem familiar..."

"We met much earlier this year," Teilla answered nonchalantly. "You do stand out in the memory, Lady Rost."

The air genasi looked hard at the dark-wood elf with her black dyed hair. Mir ran a hand through her hair and then rubbed her fingers together. "I'm going to wash this gunk out of my hair at the soonest opportunity," she said and wandered away to talk to Heinfor.

Maresa stared after the psion. "It can't be the same elf."

"Define 'same,'" Teilla snorted. "But it's definitely Mirandaline."

"Seems more focused," the planetouched woman frowned.

"You were expecting different?" the bard decided a change in subject was in order. "Has Araevin cooled down from the last time we saw you?"

Ahead of them, Heinfor waved them to get moving. Maresa and Teilla started walking in the wood elf's direction, followed by Nesterin, Filsaelene, Jorin and Ricardt. The genasi chewed on her lip for a bit before answering, "He grumbles on rare occasions about not having access to the libraries in Evermeet... He's acquired a few assistants to help him in looking for any hidden caches of magic around Myth Drannor. The vault in the High Moor is just one more place to look."

The bard mulled that over as they walked to the next portal. _At least it doesn't look like Araevin Teshurr's holding a grudge... Although, I really wonder what Mir would find on those assistants of his..._

An hour or so later, they stopped to get some rest. Mir disappeared for a few minutes and returned with sopping wet hair in its natural cloud grey color. Filsaelene did a double take and Nesterin open and closed his mouth like a beached fish. Jorin started to stand, but Heinfor grabbed the woodsman's shoulder and made him sit down again. "No attacking my cousin," he told Jorin firmly and pointed at the cleric and the pale blond elf. "That goes for you two as well."

Maresa shook her head at the scene and rolled her eyes. Ricardt turned a chuckle into a cough. Mirandaline studiously ignored the reactions, sat down and rummaged through her pack.

_That's a vast improvement over her nervousness from before,_ the bard thought with approval. _Even if nothing else ever comes of her time in Kraanfhoar, I'd count it as a gain._ Teilla sang the little couplet that would dry things quickly over the dark-wood elf's hair. "No sense in having one of our scouts catch a cold," the bard said with deliberate nonchalance.

Nesterin started humming a tune nervously, glancing at Mir every few minutes. Teilla cocked her head to the side and asked, "What song is that?"

The pale blond elf stopped humming and looked askance at the red haired half elf. "You won't be familiar with it," he said slowly.

"Good," Teilla said with a smile. "I like to learn new songs. Keeps my long treks with Ricardt entertaining... You are going to teach it to me, right?"

The paladin covered his mouth again, ostensibly to cover another cough. Mirandaline gave every indication of continuing to rummage through her rucksack, but the bard could see a smile tugging at the edges of the psion's face. Maresa shook her head in exasperation and Filsaelene looked like she muttered a prayer under her breath. Jorin sharpened a dagger on a whetstone and studiously avoided looking in Mir's direction. _Glad to see that my efforts at keeping the peace are appreciated_, she smiled inwardly and paid attention to the lyric Nesterin started to sing.

--)--------

A dozen portals later, Teilla looked at the rest of her travel mates. Mirandaline and Heinfor led the way, scouting out dangers. Jorin Kell Harthan took point on the main group. Teilla, Nesterin and Filsaelene stayed together in the middle and Ricardt kept guard at the rear of the party. Using portals known to the Elven army in Myth Drannor, they had crossed the continent of Faerûn for the third time in the last year. Teilla was starting to feel a little bit tired of all the travel and felt a little surprised at herself when she realized it. _Maybe after this I'll find someplace to stay near Ricardt and work a regular gig for a bit,_ she thought musingly, _At least it would be a change from all the running around._

Mir had been homing in on Kraanfhoar with the accuracy of a bloodhound with its quarry's scent fresh and recent in its nostrils. She expected them to enter the cave complex sometime that afternoon, barring run ins with leuccrottas and bugbears. The bard had to admire both Mir and Heinfor for the job they did dissuading and misleading monsters to attack other quarry. _Heinfor's protective of her. Actually she's probably going to need someone to vouch for her for a very long time yet._ Teilla glanced in Ricardt's direction and looked quickly away before he could catch the smile that threatened to blossom over her faintly elven features. _I think I've got my own protector._

They walked for hours until Mir and Heinfor waited for them at the edge of a somewhat familiar ravine. Ricardt looked around and said, "This looks somewhat familiar... The cave?"

Mirandaline nodded and looked around warily. "Make sure you have those sunrods ready," The dark-wood elf told them. The past four days, Mirandaline had been careful to keep her pale grey hair covered by either a hood or a kerchief so as to not reveal her ancestry to anyone who did not already know.

"You seem happy to get back to this desolate place," Maresa observed dryly. The half elven bard chuckled. Mirandaline did seem to be looking at the ruins and landscape differently from the rest of them.

"Are you seeing something the rest of us don't?" Nesterin laughed.

"I'm just seeing it through someone else's memory," Mir smiled back enigmatically. Heinfor chuckled. So did Ricardt. Teilla tittered too. Of the little that Mirandaline had explained of her time within the citadel of Kraanfhoar, Teilla had understood two things above all else. First, Mir could sense magical fields though touch and sometimes push at them. Second, Mir's sense of connection to other elves had sharpened considerably. After no less than one handclasp with each of the elves in their traveling group, the psion had determined that none of them were drow elves. She was less sure about Jorin, the other half elf, but Teilla supposed it could not be helped. _She did say that half elves were tougher to read,_ Teilla tried to console herself. _Even me._

Unfortunately the bard could not banish the feeling of unease the limitation brought her.

Without further ado, Heinfor and Mir led them down the ravine into the cavern complex. Ricardt led the way inside with a sunrod held aloft. Mir and Maresa took up rear guard on account of being more sharp eyed in the dark and being worried about being followed. Teilla hoped that nothing and no one was following them.

The cave complex yawned in front of the paladin and Teilla resisted the urge to sidle in close to Ricardt and cling at his back. Instead, she made sure that her wand of missiles was handy and that Ricardt had enough room to maneuver should he run into something unpleasant. They started into the same antechamber that they had rested in the first time through. Ricardt got two steps into the cavern and darkness suddenly doused his sunrod.

Ricardt yelped in surprise and the sounds of a scuffle broke out in front of Teilla. The bard swallowed her own screaming when inky blackness descended over her, Nesterin and Jorin. _If I scream, they will know for certain where I am_, she thought in fear as she found a wall and pressed herself up against it. Something brushed past the red haired half elf and she could hear Jorin grunt as if something heavy had just run into him. Nesterin started to sing out a counter charm to the magical darkness but someone crashed into Teilla before running into the paler elf and silencing him with no small amount of force.

Someone's hand grabbed at the half elf's shoulder and she responded by kicking in her attacker's general direction as hard as she could and trying to bolt away as soon as she felt the offending hand release her. She made it two steps towards the other end of the tunnel before someone tackled Teilla from behind and slammed her to the cave floor. She felt sparks explode behind her eyes and vaguely felt someone tying her hands and feet together. The darkness did not lift and after a moment the bard realized that no one had picked the sunrods up and turned them on again. _We've been betrayed somewhere, by someone_, Teilla realized fuzzily. _But Mir and Maresa haven't been caught yet as far as I know. Maybe we can still get out somehow._

A hard male voice said in heavily accented Elven, "Bring them into the big room. Has someone gone after the rear guards yet?"

"Teboyn and Izzyraen did, Gorruan," another voice replied in a similar accent but his voice seemed to growl a great deal more.

"They had better not screw it up again or I will personally feed them to the night walkers," the hard voice, Gorruan, said with no small amount of irritation and contempt. "Make sure the ones we have are secure and go deposit them closer to the old door."

"Anything you'd like done to them to soften them up?" the growly voice asked eagerly. Teilla felt a raw wave of panic course through her and every bad drow capture story she had ever heard found its way to the forefront of her memory.

There were sounds of an altercation from the direction of the cave entrance in addition to a few dull booms. _Likely Mirandaline using psionics_, Teilla realized as she was picked up like a sack of grain and dropped somewhere in a smoother section of tunnel. _I hope she or Maresa can get away._

"Rilvas, Kesryn, go give those two morons a hand," Gorruan's voice cut into Teilla's burgeoning hope. "Clearly those two idiots cannot be trusted to capture one weak female and a elemental mongrel. I want both of them alive. At least one of them is familiar with this place."

A few more minutes passed and Teilla heard three more people get plopped beside her as if they were bundles of cordwood. "Ricardt?" she asked into the dark.

"Here," the paladin's voice groaned next to her.

"There will be none of that," Gorruan said sharply. "Filsion, gag all of them."

From the sounds, Teilla could discern a yelp of pain and the slapping thud of someone getting hit hard. "Someone must've bitten the person trying to get a gag in," Teilla thought and decided against doing the same. _I need to be clear headed for whatever comes._ The horror stories about drow captives came bubbling up to the surface of her thoughts again. She tried to push them away with only partial success.

After Teilla and Ricardt and presumably Filsaelene, Nesterin and Jorin were all rendered silent, A commotion sounded towards where the bard thought the entrance lay. Teilla could hear Maresa's voice swearing up a blue streak and the sound of someone being dragged along the floor none too gently. After a few more thumps, the genasi's voice came nearer, also muffled by a gag.

"Now which one to question..." Gorruan's voice mused thoughtfully.

There was the sound of someone getting kicked and a high squeak of pain. "Start with this one," an angry voice said, "She's the one who slit Izzyraen's throat."

"His demise is of no concern to me, Teboyn," Gorruan coldly informed the other drow. "Fools should enjoy the fruits of their follies. Are the any other pressing reasons why this female should be questioned?"

Teilla heard a soft creaking of leather and Teboyn said uneasily, "She's the one that got away from us in Balefire."

"I see." New interest colored Gorruan's tone.

Teilla felt the faint scent of ferns tickle her nose and Mirandaline's voice whispered in her head, _I think I can take care of at least some of them, but I'm going to have to take them inside the tower to do it._

Heinfor's voice murmured back, _Can they escape from the tower like you did?_

_No_, Mir managed to convey a feeling of absoluteness to the negative. _Whatever happens, whatever I say to them, they will not escape Kraanfhoar._

Teilla added her affirmative to Heinfor's and Ricardt's. _Stay linked, Mir,_ the bard thought at the dark-wood elf. _I'll help if you need a good yarn. Just say what I tell you._

Next to her, Teilla felt Ricardt haul himself up to a sitting position and scoot closer to her. His bound hands found hers and held them gently.

"An interesting creature," Gorruan's voice sounded intrigued. "The one I've heard some virtriol about, yes? A mongrel elf... most interesting. Bring her forwards."

After some more sounds scuffing of leather and oilcloth and a few grunts. Someone made appreciative noises. "Spirited too I see," Gorruan continued in that speculative tone, "My harem back home could use another female."

Teilla could feel Mir's thoughts about how to get the drow to where allies were suddenly come to a stop. _I won't let them take me to Chaulsinn,_ Mir thought, frightened. _I can't_.

The bard felt an answering surge of fear, _There's always a worse isn't there._

_You won't_, Heinfor thought back with fierce reassurance, _Get them into Kraanfhoar and then those High Magi can turn them all into little grease spots, whether they did something awful or not._

Teilla felt her own fear simmering just beneath the surface. Ricardt softly reassured the bard and the psion, _You'll be all right. The miscreants are likely to save such... tactics for when they think it will do the most damage. All I've heard indicates that they'll play with the captives before... before. Stay steady._

"We almost caught the bitch in Balefire," Teboyn growled. "Don't know how she got there though. I didn't think she went for planar travel."

"Teboyn, please still your wagging tongue," Gorruan commented mildly, "I may slice it to silence it. Duskhunter... I see you know that moniker. Let's see if you answer to another one, Mirandaline Sparrowhawk..."

_He's the spy!_ Heinfor's realization sang along the mindlink.

_Or an agent of someone else_, Mir's mental voice carried a steely edge of resolve. _Teilla, this is more your arena than mine._

Teilla shook herself out of the wave of despair that threatened. _If they are still willing, I can do no less now, can I?_

_You are as brave as any paladin, _Ricardt projected back. His hand felt warm and solid around the bard's. _You can do it._

"Ah, how the mongrel glares," Teilla could hear the smug smile in Gorruan's voice, "You must have been the burr in Teshurr's boots."

"What has that to do with anything?" someone asked.

"I see you know what I mean, Duskhunter," Gorruan said smugly, ignoring his thug's question. "You will get us inside the citadel."

_Try to look defiant,_ Teilla thought at the psion. _If you cave too easily, he won't buy it! Let him get a couple of threats in, then look scared and tell him the truth._

Mir's mental reaction was one of edgy nervousness. Teilla resolved to keep her instructions simple as Gorruan continued, "Perhaps a bit of motivation is necessary... Venris? A blade on the wood elf if you will."

There was the muffled sound of some struggling, and the soft scraping ring of a blade being drawn. The scuffling sounds abruptly went still. Across the psionic link, Heinfor's voice came through a bit strained, _I've got a few nicks for my trouble, but I'm all right._

"Un-gag Duskhunter, Teboyn," Gorruan ordered. "The first sign of a struggle from you and Venris begins cutting very, very slowly."

Teilla worried about the dark-wood elf keeping her cool, but no sound came from Mir's location. "So, shall we learn how you made it into Kraanfhoar or shall you start watching parts of your companions go missing?"

After a pause, Mir said softly, "I walked in through the door."

Gorruan clucked, "Tsk tsk. Too easy Duskhunter.. That's been tried."

"The barrier recognizes certain elves," Mir explained quickly. Teilla could hear the fear in the psion's voice. "I'm one of the ones it will let through." Maresa and Filsaelene made angry noises through their gags.

"I rather thought so," Gorruan said dryly. "Certainly Teshurr left that impression with me. Can you take others in with you?"

_Look defeated!_ Teilla thought urgently, _Whatever you say!_

"I can teleport inside," Mir said in a wan subdued voice. "I suppose I can take others." To Teilla she thought, _I can deliberately miss on the teleport if I have to._

After a long thoughtful pause, Gorruan ordered, "Move our new acquisitions closer to the door."

Teilla soon found herself prodded and pinched up to her feet and shoved down the dark tunnels in the direction of the door. After a few minutes of rough handling, a soft blue glow started to emanate from the terminus of the passage. The red haired half elf looked around and saw more drow elves that she had originally thought. _There's two of them for every one of us and they caught us off guard,_ she thought. _We were watching for them behind us instead ahead. No wonder they took us so easily._

_They're shapeshifted, some of them,_ Mir added. _Gorruan has wings for one... The inscription on the door... I can read it!_

_What does it say?_ Ricardt and Heinfor projected almost simultaneously.

A_ last test for the hopeful, may the Seldarine and thine kindred guide you through it,_ the psion answered. _It seems like I'm expected... I hope there are guards involved..._

_Me too, cousin,_ Heinfor sent back. _Stay brave, eyas._

Teilla saw two of the drow push the psion nearer to the ancient door and a tall drow wrapped in a black leathery cloak stepped forwards between Mirandaline and Kraanfhoar's door. To everyone's apparent surprise, the carvings on the door began to shimmer silvery as they came closer. _Is that supposed to happen?_ Ricardt worried.

Mir did not answer. Teilla focused on Gorruan. _He's got something nasty planned..._ the bard thought.

The drow looked down at the shorter psion and smiled a mouth full of delicately pointed teeth at her. "You say you can get us into the citadel," The spy said musingly, "But I don't think we should trust you without some sort of assurance. Don't look so defeated, green eyes. I'm treating you as anyone would treat a clever drow, instead of some mangy half blood. You will likely do well in the harem's hierarchy... Now let's see..." He tapped his lips pensively. Teilla saw scales glimmering on his hands. "Your life...? No, you'd likely consider that a decent price to save your friends... Ah! Teboyn, Lysser, Evnilior, separate the half humans and the human and bring them forwards up here."

Teilla saw one of the uglier drow come towards her and Ricardt. She felt strong rough hands seize hold of her travel jerkin and start hauling her and the paladin towards Gorruan and Mir. _If I didn't think these bastards had dragon blood, I'd think so now,_ Teilla thought and felt a fresh surge of fear as Ricardt lost his grip on her hand as they were both dragged closer to the door.

Maresa started swearing up a storm through her gag and there were sounds of a struggle coming from Jorin's direction. The half elf ranger and the genasi were slammed down next to the bard. Maresa's pale hair swirled violently around her head and she glared daggers at Gorruan. Teilla stared at the leader of the drow raiders. What she had taken for a leather cloak was actually wings carefully folded around his body. The bard remembered the drow-dragons at Shaalkar Manor and the information Mir had bought from Valas Hune back in Whizban. _Oh we are in trouble_, she thought.

Gorruan flashed some signals to his people in drow hand cant. _He's splitting his group up,_ Mir translated for Teilla, Ricardt and Heinfor, _Most of them are going into Kraanfhoar. Teilla, Ricardt? He's giving orders to take you with them along with me_.

_They're using us to ensure you don't deliberately throw the teleport off,_ Teilla realized.

Ricardt started, _Mir..._

_I can't do it to you_, the psion thought back in despair, _If it were only me I could but I can't... Won't!_

_Calm down, eyas_, Heinfor projected back soothingly,_ Your teachers can make them all into little grease spots, remember? And if they split up, those of us left behind might be able to do something to the remaining outcasts and escape._

_Listen to your cousin_, Ricardt's voice came wafting across their linked minds like a warm blanket. _None of us think any less of you. They can be taken care of within the citadel._

Mir shook like a leaf in front of Gorruan. Teilla told her dryly, _The trembling's good. You want him to think you're scared._

_Thanks Teilla_, Mir replied sardonically.

Gorruan spoke briskly, "You will teleport all of us onto the ruins of the citadel, Duskhunter. Us and these friends of yours. You won't fail them now, will you?"

Still shaking, Teilla saw the psion shake her head. Maresa looked angry around her gag. Jorin glared out at everyone in general. The drow-dragons closed in around them and Mir began to amass the mental energy for the teleport.

Teilla kept her thoughts quiet along the mind link so as not to cause the dark-wood elf undue distraction. The air became flooded with the smell of rain washed forest and Teilla could feel Mir dip into her mental wellspring of power. The image of a carefully kept garden of stone in a twilit chamber began to swim into focus at the surface of the psion's thoughts. It sharpened until Teilla could almost feel the carefully raked sand under her knees. Mir poured out the power from her internal wellspring with all the ease of breathing and the illusion became real.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Teilla knelt on the other side of Kraanfhoar's door in a meticulously maintained stone garden in a magically starlit antechamber. A closed door stood on the far side of the underground room. The bard looked around and saw through the spaces between the drow-dragons around them that the sides of the stone courtyard were decorated in a mural of mountains and clouds and sky. The red haired half elf looked back at Mirandaline and saw the psion sag in her captor's grasp. _Tougher than I thought it would be_, Mir explained to Teilla and Ricardt. _Like trying to hit an arrow in flight._

_You did well_, Ricardt projected back. Teilla added her mental support to his and asked, _When would we have the calvary come to our rescue?_

I need to get everyone to the turnstile and do a planar shift to get most of the selu'taar here, Mir said tiredly.

"Now, little Duskhunter," Gorruan fairly purred out the words. Teilla thought she might gag on the drow-dragon's smugness. "Are there any traps laid out for the unwary before we reach the libraries?Or shall we find out what your human friend's bowels look like."

_Hang your head, talk softly and don't look him in the face,_ Teilla instructed quickly. As Maresa and Jorin started making urgent negative sounding noises. Gorruan nodded in the genasi's and the ranger's direction and some of his goons slapped them silent.

"There's a second citadel," The psion said softly, her braid had become somewhat undone and the pale wisps fell over her face. Gorruan had to lean in close to hear. "It's keyed to me and I know how to operate it. Don't hurt my friends. Please."

"Get us there and you all will live untouched," Gorruan said in an equally soft voice. Then he took a lock of her hair and let it run through his fingers. "Well, perhaps with the exception of you, green eyes."

Teilla felt a wave of nausea from Mir through the mental link and sent back wordless reassurances. Ricardt did the same as they were all frog marched through the doors and into the citadel. Teilla saw the drow and drow-dragons drop their guard a little and inwardly grinned. _If Mir is right, they probably won't see this coming._

The bard looked around the hallways and their support columns and arches all designed to resemble trees The entire ceiling was enchanted to resemble a starry night and the soft blue light cast shadows everywhere. Some of the drow kept looking about as if something was going to jump out at them any minute. The stillness of the place seemed to put them on edge.

With Mir's soft, defeated sounding voice giving directions, they soon came to a nondescript door off the side of one hallway. "Here," She murmured. "I need a hand free to manipulate the device." Gorruan nodded to one of his subordinates. The drow cut the rope around the psion's wrists and pushed her against the wall with a blade at the dark-wood elf's back.

Gorruan almost rubbed his hands together in eager anticipation as Mir carefully and slowly tapped the doorknob in a certain sequence. Teilla wondered what the natives of Kraanfhoar would do once they realized that their last sanctum had been breached. Mir tightened her hand on the doorknob and gave it a half turn.

The mental link with Mir suddenly severed. The psion gave a sharp gasp and fell limp to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. The drow holing the sword on Mirandaline let her fall. Teilla glanced at Ricardt and wished he was holding her hand again.

--)--------

Author's note: Sad to say, life is interrupting my writing schedule (grumpy grumpy). So it might be a longer wait between the next few chapters. Granted the mess that is interrupting my life is a happy one, but I hate leaving nice readers hanging. I will finish this story though, I promise! I like these characters too much to stop!


	20. Switch

Disclaimer: Umm... er... Hey look! A kitty!

--)--------

Kaeldin felt the wards of Kraanfhoar shift slightly and looked up from the treatise on psionic manipulation of weave magic. He had been working on it since Mirandaline first showed that she could in fact play with workings already in motion. He had been both shocked and delighted with Faenllach's news that the young elf had managed to escape the Plane of Shadow to the Prime Material Plane. Lilleen had been practically skipping since they received the report.

_She believes that there is a chance for us as long as a student of ours is alive and kicking on the Material plane,_ He thought with a smile. _I agree with her. I am so tired..._

The mythal twitched again, stronger this time. Frowning, the sylvan elf mage got up from his writing desk on the Arvandor side of Kraanfhoar and went to look in the hallway. He almost collided with the dark elf in a nondescript grey cloak and leathers running headlong down the hall. Breathlessly, the shorter elf said, "Oh good, there you are. Grab something resembling a weapon and follow me."

"What is it?" Kaeldin asked puzzled. "Something is rocking the mythal..."

"They've got little Mir," the dark elf said urgently. "The drow-dragons have her and they're heading this way. They've got those human kin she's been running with too."

The mage felt his confusion melt in an instant, to be replaced with cold fury. He turned back to the study and tapped the top of his desk. A hidden compartment popped open with a rusty squeal and Kaeldin retrieved the four wands inside. He strode to his wardrobe and kicked the bottom drawer. The front of the drawer fell off and the high mage retrieved the heavily enchanted robe that came partially out as well. "Before we go, I have seen you before, have I not?" he commented to the plain dark elf, "Watching young Mir's weapon practices? You are from the Arvandor side."

The dark elf nodded as he tied a black scarf over his pale white hair, "I'm Bhindax. Can we hurry?"

Kaeldin nodded back and followed the short dark elf out into Kraanfhoar's halls. "You know where they are?" he asked.

Bhindax paused at one corner and Kaeldin caught a faint whiff of minerals and damp emanating from the nondescript black skinned elf. Bhindax looked back at the sylvan elf and said, "They're heading for the turnstile."

_Another psion?_ Kaeldin thought, curious. He buried the stray thought underneath grim determination. "No one molests an apprentice of mine, not if I can do something about it."

"I should have talked to you months ago," Bhindax grinned, "I share the exact sentiment. Amaria's watching the front, by the way. If anyone who looks like those bastards comes out, they are going to wish Lolth had caught them instead of little Mir's mother."

They jogged through the halls until they reached the one containing the planar shifter. Kaeldin took a moment to cast a few protection spells on himself and internally grumbled that he was woefully unprepared for a hostile confrontation. _At least since Mir started manipulating lightning, I've had a few of those spells on hand at all times._

Bhindax stopped just outside the turnstile hallway and held a finger to his lips for silence. Kaeldin nodded and stood outside the hallway as well. The selu'taar felt the mythal vibrate again and suddenly realized that no other student had ever gotten so close to returning. _I do not know what will happen_, he thought with some trepidation.

The mythal shuddered once more and Kaeldin felt the swirling weightlessness of a teleport spell start to engulf him unexpectedly. He managed a grunt of surprise and saw Bhindax turn and look back at him with a stunned expression on his dark face. The teleport took him away to face a carved stone with silvery light emanating from the lines of the carving. Frustrated, he kicked at the carving. It remained solid stone and did not assume transparency as it was supposed to do for new students.

The sylvan elf backed up to get a better look at it and bumped into something solid. He turned, let his eyes adjust to the change from light to dark and realized that the barrier was transparent. A quick mental inventory told him that he was still within the bounds of Kraanfhoar's mythal.

By the light cast from the carvings, Kaeldin could see three bound and gagged elves sitting on the stone tunnel's floor with five very surprised looking drow standing guard over them. One of the drow squinting into the light had scaled ridges along his eyebrows. _Dragon blooded drow here with Tel'Quessir as captives and I can't seem to get near enough to help young Mir... _he thought with angry frustration before facing the scaly drow with a cold glare and colder voice, "You _irinal dhaerow Illythiiri_ scum. You will not harm my apprentice or her allies while I can do something about it."

The dragon blooded drow stared at the mage for a moment in shock before starting to weave his hands through a spell to conjure missiles of force. The drow-dragon moved too late. With the speed of thought, Kaeldin tripped one of the mythal defenses to make it solid against magical attacks and began to cast the most powerful of the lightning spells he had at his disposal, again drawing on the mythal to make the spell more powerful. A bright blaze of lightning shot from the selu'taar's hands and caught the scaly drow in the chest before proceeding on through each of the marauders with a loud crackle of static and a whiff of charred meat.

When his vision readjusted to the dim light cast by the softly glowing carvings, Kaeldin saw two bodies and three scattered piles of ash remaining of the drow. The captive elves looked back at him with eyes wide with fear. Kaeldin kicked at the mythal barrier again and found it just as solid to him as it had been before. Sighing, he asked, "Did I get them all or is one of the outcasts hiding around the corner?"

One of the elves nodded and scooted out from the corridor wall. The bound wood elf fell over and slipped his bound hands under his legs then sat up. Kaeldin cast a simple cantrip and began to undo the strange pale elf's bonds with a pair of glowing hands as the wood elf picked at his bindings. As soon as the blond male elf was loose, he started on the female sun elf's ropes.

The wood elf finally wriggled free and finished untying his friends. "You're one of the Miyeritari high mages?" the wood elf asked urgently. Kaeldin nodded and the wood elf continued, "What happened to Mir?"

"That traitor?" The pale blond elf's voice rose as he started to launch into a tirade, "She..."

"She was trying to lead them into a trap, Nesterin. Shut up," The wood elf cut in. "What happened to my cousin?"

"Young Mir?" Kaeldin asked.

The honey haired wood elf nodded, "I'm Heinfor Sparrowhawk."

"I do not know what happened to her," Kaeldin admitted. "I was on my way to deal with the dhaerow holding her when something happened and I ended up here."

"Can't you come away from the door?" The sun elf asked. "I'm Filsaelene."

"No," The mage shook his head and sat down. "I am bound to the citadel..."

Kaeldin broke off as an unexpected coldness washed over him head to foot. He shut his eyes and clutched at his head. A wave of dizziness followed in its wake and the sylvan elf felt something pulled away from him. He gasped with the loss for a second or two before new senses came trickling slowly in to replace what was lost. Three points of concern and worry hovered near him, one still had hot sparks of confused anger about them. The mage groaned with the sudden influx of emotions not his own. He slumped over on his side and spent a few minutes trying to sort out his feelings from those of the three other elves nearby.

When he gathered himself back together, he found Heinfor, Nesterin and Filsaelene kneeling over him, all with worry plainly written over them inside and out. Kaeldin also noticed that he was lying down some distance away from the door and that he had no memory of how he got there. "You were having some sort of shaking fit," The golden haired female said gently, "Then it looked like you were pushed away from the door somehow..."

"What?" Kaeldin sat up. Sure enough, the portal was a good twenty feet from him, much farther than he remembered running into the magical barrier a few minutes ago. _Am I no __longer bound to Kraanfhoar?_

"Today just keeps becoming more interesting..." The mage sighed as he got up and looked at the portal carving again. "'Mistress of dawn to spread the light of knowledge?' Corellon's blade, what is going on in there?"

"I don't know..." Nesterin began in a confused tone. A wisp of silvery mist crept out from the carvings and snaked towards the four elves. It became elf shaped, gained some color and Lilleen stood translucently before them in her favorite blue dress with her slivery white hair softly knotted behind her head.

"Lilleen, what is going on?" Kaeldin asked impatiently.

"I do not know." The dark elven lore mistress paced back and forth in agitation, leaving wisps of spirit stuff in her wake. "None of our circle could get in."

"Aleseil Seldarie," Heinfor breathed. "No help for our people on the other side of that thing?"

"Before I left to find you, Mithias and six others he knows were running into the tower," Lilleen said in a reassuring voice. "Every eladrin in the area will likely try to get in on it too."

Kaeldin could feel the tension rising off the spirit, like heat off a kettle. "Lilleen, do you feel any different?" he asked.

"Not really, I am still bound to the citadel," She answered. "Why do you..." The dark elven loremistress broke off and seemed to take a mental inventory. Lilleen looked at the sylvan elf mage carefully, "Your eyes look normal..."

"They have a tendency to change color slowly," Kaeldin waved it away.

"They are the brown they were before the rite of transformation," Lilleen insisted. "And you seem different... more here."

The sylvan elf mage blinked before realizing exactly what his fellow mage meant. "The telmiirkara neshyrr reversed?" he breathed. "I have been released from service?"

"I believe so," Lilleen nodded. "I will not know for certain until I can get back in and see what is going on... Actually, I believe I can do so now. I will return with news as soon as I am able." The spirit quickly dissolved into nothingness, leaving Kaeldin with Heinfor, Filsaelene and Nesterin.

"Now what?" Nesterin asked bewildered. Kaeldin supposed that the change in pace and perception of who was friend and foe had left the poor boy a little off balance.

"That's easy," Heinfor said firmly, "We wait for the others to come out or Lady Lilleen to tell us it isn't worthwhlie to wait."

Filsaelene looked at Kaeldin and asked, "How likely do you think that Maresa and the others will come back through?"

"Considering that this has never happened before," Kaeldin rubbed his hands over his face, "I do not know. I imagine that young Mir is the new keeper of the Citadel, but I am not sure if the particulars of the job have changed."

Heinfor narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by 'particulars'?"

"She may have to strike a bargain..." The mage began seriously, but the scout's laughter cut him off.

"If there's bargaining involved, then I'm going to stop worrying," Heinfor chuckled as he turned to rummaging around in his pack for something. "The daughter of a fur trader operating out of Whizban? I don't think we have to worry too much."

Kaeldin saw Heinfor's hands shake ever so slightly and could feel a shimmer of tension from the younger elf. The mage decided not to mention it and settled down to wait for Lilleen's return. Heinfor pulled a small brazier from his pack and set to lighting it. Its warm orange glow made the stone passage seem cozy and chased the shadows away from them. _If I am released from duty, why am I not in Arvandor?_ he wondered._ I would have thought that I would end up there instead of here..._

A wave of wordless longing trickled into the high mage's mind. _What is going on now?_ Kaeldin wondered irritably. The feeling crashed into him with the force of a storm surge. He focused on the ground under his knees as his vision tunneled and the sensation became almost melodic. A warm spark radiating concern came near and took hold of his shoulder. The sylvan elf focused on the spark and used it as an anchor to keep himself from drifting away with the hypnotic melody.

The mental song faded and left Kaeldin breathing hard. He looked to see who gripped his shoulder and found the priestess, Filsaelene, looking at him with concern. "Are you all right?" she asked.

The selu'taar shook his head, "I do not know." _Pulling me away from here... Arvandor's call perhaps? How old am I anyway?_

A familiar and strange tingle and the back of Kaeldin's mind jarred him out of his bewildered confusion. A moment later Lilleen swirled out of the shadows, her transparent form glowing with joy.

"She did it!" The lorekeeper danced around the elves. "She managed to keep herself!"

"No telmiirkara neshyrr?" Kaeldin asked in happy astonishment. "That's the best news since... since..."

"It has been too long since," Lilleen laughed.

"So, when are our friends getting out?" Heinfor asked hopefully.

"A week or two," the loremistress said. "The wards need to recover before she bends them again."

Kaeldin gaped. "She will be able to leave the citadel?"

Heinfor laughed, "I told you they didn't count on a Whizban trader negotiating with them. Should we wait for them or...?"

"They are going to need you to go to Evereska and talk to the same mage young Mir met when she was there last," Lilleen said excitedly. "There might be more of those dragon-kin prowling around the city."

"One more thing," Kaeldin switched into Seldruin, "_How old am I, Lilleen?_"

The loremistress nibbled at her lip for a moment before answering, "_Thou art three thousand one hundred seventy two years of age, my friend._"

"_I hear Arvandor's call, circle sister,_" Kaeldin said heavily.

"_Thine apprentice needs thee for a little while yet_," Lilleen replied gently.

"_I know._" The sylvan elf mage heaved a sigh. "_I will not leave her alone in a hostile land_. _I will hang on, somehow._"

Lilleen nodded. Heinfor looked from the spirit to Kaeldin and back, "We should probably get moving if we want to see about catching the last few of these dragony bastards."

Kaeldin nodded and began rummaging through the remaining supplies of the drow- dragons. _Damn, I should have asked Lilleen to send Mir with a few spell books and kiira stones of mine_, he thought ruefully._ No matter, I think I can manage with the wands and the two kiira I have with me right now. I wonder how much the world has changed since I last walked on it._

--)--------

Mirandaline looked around her new surroundings. _This is unexpected_, she thought uneasily.

She stood in a white gazebo in the middle of a vast field of heather, lavender and sage lit in the silver light of a crescent moon. A small globe sat on a pedestal carved with stylized images of elven life. The globe swirled with a soft golden glow inside. The psion looked closer at the pedestal's carvings and saw some of the same figures recurring again and again. _Is it telling a story... or something else?_ she wondered.

The dark-wood elf started to mentally quest out towards the glowing sphere._ There are protections around it_, she frowned, _And something about it seems familiar..._

"Enjoying the garden, young mage?" a laughing alto voice broke into Mirandaline's path of thoughts.

"It is a lovely garden," the psion answered warily as she turned to face her host. "Where am I?"

An female elf-like creature with silky red-gold hair, flawless golden skin, eyes that seemed like dark pools filled with stars and a simple dress of shimmery white stood at the steps of the gazebo. "This is your last test, little mage," She said. "I am Morwel."

Mir felt her misgivings settle in the pit of her stomach as she asked, "What is the test?"

Morwel gave a silvery laugh, "'Tis simple, child. Break the sphere."

Feeling entirely drab and sensing a trap, the psion asked, "What's the catch?"

Morwel simply smiled patiently at the dark-wood elf. Mir suppressed a sigh and continued questing towards the crystal sphere. _So many protections layered on its surface... All sticky, cold... They almost seem cobwebby. Touching it without shielding of some kind seems like a very bad idea_.

Mir gave a little mental push at the globe. It did not budge from the pedestal. _Figures this isn't going to be that easy..._ she sighed and resumed her inspection of the wards.

_Every strand of the weave used in these seems to be designed to stick to the person who touches it. Almost as if it's supposed to be easy to break the sphere, but get caught in the wards afterwards... _She frowned in concentration. _And something feels very familiar about the sphere..._

Mir let her feel of the globe settle for a bit while she tried to place exactly how it felt familiar to her. _Last time I felt something like this I was taking lessons from Kaeldin... Wait a minute... _She looked at the globe again in shock._ I think it __**is**__ Kaeldin. Or that chunk of soul he said he traded away at any rate. Corellon grant me the wisdom to get through this mess..._

She inspected the magic surrounding the sphere._ It feels like the wards want to catch and adhere to whoever touches it and pull them into it. _She remembered Kaeldin's explanation of the the telmiirakara neshyrr and amended, _Or part of them anyway_.

Some experimental psionic pushing on the wards themselves convinced the dark-wood elf that some sort of psychic anchor would be needed in order to keep from getting sucked away into the sphere herself. Mir opened up her mind to feel for anyone who might be willing to help her.

Morwel's essence burned at Mir's passive sensing like midday summer sunshine. _Eladrin_, the psion thought morosely. _I bet she could act as an anchor, but I'd also bet that she would extract a price for it._

"That's the catch, isn't it," The psion turned to Morwel in realization. "To break the sphere, I'd have to get Kaeldin's spirit out. To get Kaeldin's spirit out, I'd get caught myself or use you as an anchor and likely end up going through the telmiirkara neshyrr anyway."

"You are very astute, little mage," Morwel inclined her head respectfully towards Mirandaline. "Kraanfhoar requires a guardian. The lore contained within would be dangerous in the wrong hands."

"But if I could find a psychic anchor other than you, I could still make it work, right?" the psion pressed.

"If you can find the stars even if they are obscured by the sun, perhaps you might find someone within Kraanfhoar to help you," the eladrin conceded.

_So that's what the inscription meant by "Seldarine and kindred" guiding me through tests,_ Mir thought gloomily. _I'd be able to sense any relatives of mine better than other elves. Any close kin of mine are either outside the citadel in Faer__ûn or outside the citadel in Arvandor._

She looked at the crescent moon hanging in the sky and thought, _Well, the moon is sometimes visible when the sun's out. Maybe I'll get lucky or Morwel's deliberately trying to discourage me from looking. Nothing to do but make the effort..._

Mir sat down in front of the globe's pedestal, closed her eyes and stretched out her sense of other elves. Morwel burned terribly at her searching mental touch and the psion strove to feel past the hot spike of pain. _Breathe... Keep breathing and drift past it._

After what seemed like forever, the dark-wood elf felt something beyond the burning Morwel's aura caused her. _Cooler, still sharp though... and taut. Very tense_. Mir focused on the faint presence as much as she could. _I need to have a good feel for it if I'm going to succeed with breaking that sphere without losing myself in the process._

Her perception of the faint presence wavered at the edge of the psion's metaphysical senses, blinded as they were by the eladrin's presence. Mir kept trying to gain a solid sense of it, though it became harder and harder to maintain her focus on it with every passing second.

Finally, she felt the eclipsed presence steady itself. _Still somewhat obscured by Morwel, but I can feel whoever it is. Icy worry mixed with warm fuzzy love and concern. It isn't __Mother, I would know if it were her and besides, she wouldn't be able to make it into __Kraanfhoar in the first place because of the wards._

Mir reached for the unknown spirit and felt them reach back in return. _I've met this elf somewhere, I know it. I hope they stay in Kraanfhoar long enough for me to figure out where I know them from..._

Keeping a solid hold on the helpful stranger, Mir began to mentally push at the wards surrounding the gold lit sphere. As she suspected, each strand of the protective spells woven about the sphere adhered to her as she touched them. One by one, she peeled them away from the globe and removed it from the pedestal.

_Now for the hard part_. The psion took a deep breath and started to pull away from the wards, using the link with her unknown benefactor to secure her. The ward strands came off slowly and felt as if they left something sticky behind. _It's like trying to scrape raw dough off one's hands with only a damp towel. I can get most of it off, but there's bound to be some bits left stuck to me. Need to make sure I get the worst of it off._

Finally, Mirandaline felt the last of the spell traps around her lose their grip, leaving her holding onto the sphere and the kind stranger. The dark-wood elf opened her eyes and glanced at Morwel to gauge the eladrin's reaction. Morwel remained serene, but watched her closely. The psion threw the crystal ball against the ground as hard as she could. To her surprise, it shattered with a crash into thousands of thin tiny pieces. The golden mist swirled out of the wreckage of the sphere became a semi-cohesive cloud and flew around Morwel and Mir once before shimmering into nothing. _I hope Kaeldin finds himself more himself_, the dark-wood elf thought tiredly.

"That should not have been possible," Morwel frowned delicately.

"Except sometimes a lie isn't a lie, because we don't always see the truth but one can feel it anyway," the psion answered. She leaned against the pedestal and watched Morwel warily. _She said all I had to do is break the sphere to get out of here. I hope I'm not expected to get myself out of here. I'm too drained to stand._

"Kraanfhoar requires a guardian," the eladrin said sternly. "There is not enough magic about you to do a binding like that of your predecessor."

_I knew there was a catch_, Mir thought grumpily. "If the archives require a guardian, why not disperse the archives?"

Morwel considered it for a moment and answered, "It is too dangerous to set loose all of it at once, child."

"What about in bits?" the psion suggested. "Since it doesn't seem like you're going to let me go without conditions."

"The magic that clings to you binds you to Kraanfhoar," Morwel explained patiently. "All that is left to do is to shape it."

"But there's a problem," Mir pressed, sensing an advantage. "You can't bind me anywhere near as tightly as you did with Kaeldin."

The delicate frown returned, "You are correct, little mage."

"What about letting parts of the library go out in little bits? To the right people?" Mir suggested. _Can't hurt to try_.

"You would never live long enough to complete such a task," Morwel observed.

The psion considered the problem. "What about something similar to Lilleen's binding? She can move around as a spirit." Morwel opened her mouth to say something else but Mirandaline cut her off in a rush. "If I have some way to talk people into the tower when I pass on, would that work?"

"Perhaps," the eladrin delicately tapped her lips with one finger. "There's enough of my threads on you to allow you to talk to others in their dreams, when you pass to Arvandor. Certainly there's enough to let you move between the citadel and the material plane..."

"That works for me," Mir said with no small amount of relief. "I just don't want to be stuck there for eons!"

Morwel gave a slivery laugh, "So the ability to travel to and from Kraanfhoar, a sense of where to put some of the less dangerous kiira stones and dream talking for later. I believe we can arrange this with the magic that still clings to you. If you will come before me, child?"

Mirandaline knelt in front of Morwel as the eladrin began to chant softly over the dark-wood elf. The cool sticky strands of the remaining magic shifted disconcertingly around her.

--)--------

Ricardt saw the light in Kraanfhoar's hallway change from cool blue to something more like the sun filtered through a lot of green leaves. Next to the black haired paladin, Teilla stifled a sob and started to tremble. He gently stroked the bard's hands in a soothing manner with his own and wondered if and how they were going free themselves. _Mir was so sure that there would be help here,_ Ricardt thought as he looked at the small dark-wood elf. _What happened?_

Mirandaline had not stirred from where she had fallen on the wall. The male drow guarding the psion prodded her with the point of his sword, prompting Gorruan to step in. The paladin's command of surface Elven was decent enough, but the drow dialect had enough variation that he found it difficult to follow. _And they are speaking with a heavy accent as well, or so I gathered from the link with Teilla and Mir. I hate not knowing what is going on._

The scaly leader of the band of drow and dragon tainted elves appeared to scold his subordinate for mistreating Mir. The armored drow shook his head emphatically and gestured to the unconscious elf. Gorruan leaned over to inspect Mir's still form. When he straightened up, he gave orders to one of his henchmen and the male drow-dragon swiftly bound Mir's hands behind her and hobbled her feet._ They wouldn't tie her up if she were dead_, Ricardt felt a little spark of hope flare up.

A small flicker of movement around the fallen psion caught the paladin's attention. Gorruan continued to give orders to his bravos. A few of them started to wander off through the halls. _Probably scouting the place out_, Ricardt filed the information away, hoping some idea on how to escape would eventually come to him. He continued to concentrate on the flickering movement

A pair of black hands passed over Mir's head and Ricardt saw a smallish male drow kneeling over the psion in a cloak carefully arranged to fall between the furtive looking male and all the other drow in the hallway. The paladin frowned, _His leathers don't match the rest of these ingrates. Who is that?_

The newcomer caught sight of Ricardt looking at him. Moving slowly and deliberately, the small male drow locked eyes with the paladin and crossed his forearms over his chest. _Mir said crossed arms is a sign that means "ally,"_ Ricardt realized suddenly._ He can't of come all by his lonesome though..._

A flurry of activity at the other end of the hallway pulled the paladin's attention towards it. Gorruan strode through his subordinates towards the disturbance. Ricardt caught sight of a tall drow elf dressed out in chainmail, cloak and a pair of longswords, all in black. Teilla froze. _That isn't one of Gorruan's thugs..._ He glanced back at the small male drow and could not spot either him or Mir through the shifting drow-dragons. _Has help arrived?_

The new drow chuckled at something Gorruan said. Ricardt suppressed a shudder. The harsh cutting baritone sound did not bring to mind someone who fought on the side of celestials. The paladin gently squeezed Teilla's hand. She still sat motionless and stared hard at Gorruan's guest. Then the bard's fingers traced a crescent onto the back of Ricardt's hand. She waited a moment and did so again. Ricardt watched the new drow talking amiably with the lead drow-dragon. _She saw something_, the paladin thought, hope sparking up once again. _What was it?_

The new drow held his hands up in a placating gesture and instead stalked towards Maresa. The genasi glared and tried to bite when he ran a finger down her pale blueish cheek. He gave an amused laugh in response and said something that resulted in answering chuckles from the drow-dragons around him. The new drow turned and talked with Gorruan again. Teilla again traced a crescent on the back of Ricardt's hand. The paladin looked hard at the newcomer. _Wait a minute, in the black on black embroidery on that dark elf's surcoat... Is that a crescent moon?_ He looked more closely and thought,_ It __is a crescent motif on his surcoat and cloak. Now what would a dark elf wearing the __symbol of the chief surface elven deity be doing here... Unless they are part of the help Mir expected_.

Ricardt squeezed Teilla's hand in understanding and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt someone else gently take hold of the rope around his wrists. The paladin nearly bonked heads with the cloaked dark elf kneeling next to him. _The same elf who was pulling Mir away_, Ricardt realized.

"Stay still," the elf whispered softly in the paladin's ear in lightly accented Common. "I think a ruckus is going to start soon."

Ricardt felt his bonds loosen and he turned his attention back to Gorruan and his guest. Most of the band of raiders seemed focused on him and less on the captives. The small cloaked elf cut through Teilla's bindings before stalking slowly and silently towards Jorin and Maresa.

The paladin glanced back at Gorruan. The drow dragon continued to talk to the tall drow in black as he turned back to the doorway where Mir had fallen. The scaly dark elf's mouth dropped open and he gasped audibly in surprise. Ricardt risked a quick glance towards the new drow as the elf said something sarcastic sounding and drew his swords in a blur of motion. The dragon blooded drow jumped away from the unexpected scrape of steel. Two of his juniors were not so fortunate. The black clad drow slashed one through the throat and sheared through the leathers protecting the other's belly. He kept himself and his blades moving to make himself a more difficult target as a powerful alto voice shouted in clear elven, "NOW! Not later, gods damn it!"

Gorruan drew a short sword of his own and edged towards the tall drow in black, angling to flank him. Four glowing lavender missiles headed for the drow dragon. Though they faded out of existence before impact, the little bolts balked Gorruan long enough for the strange tall drow to get out of danger.

Ricardt waited until one of the scaly drow came too close and kicked the male in the hip with both feet. The paladin's victim stumbled off balance towards the spinning swords-elf. The tall drow took quick advantage of Ricardt's surprise attack and stabbed through the dragony dark elf's leg. Blood pumped from the wound as Ricardt wriggled out of the ropes binding him and ruthlessly pulled the short sword out of the the dying elf's hand.

Teilla pulled her hands free of her bonds, yanked her gag down and started singing a fierce wordless melody. To the paladin's astonishment, an alto voice joined the bard's soprano in impromptu harmony. Ricardt focused on slashing or stabbing at anyone who came close to him or Teilla as he looked over the chaos of the fight.

The drow dragons seemed focused primarily on two people. The drow with the black crescents gave them all kinds of trouble. Six of Gorruan's thugs tried to cage the stranger in and tripped over the bodies over four of their comrades to do so. Another knot of distraction drew Ricardt's attention towards it. A dark elf spun and slashed with a gleaming silver sword, her long white hair unbound and flowing around her as she whirled. Sparks of lightning originated from somewhere behind her and every so often one of the drow captors would suddenly fall for no readily apparent reason. _Probably the sneaky fellow that cut us loose_, Ricardt realized.

A sudden gust of hot air from the other end of the hallway drew the paladin's attention away from the main melee. A blond male elf with a black sword hurled fire at Gorruan. The drow dragon threw up a shield and began a counterspell. Ricardt shook his head and kept himself out of the main fighting. _Damn, I keep losing track of who's fighting for us and where they are. Tyr grant the dark elves on our side sense enough to not get too close to me, else I might stab them by mistake. Need to keep Teilla safe, first and foremost._

Along the far wall, the paladin caught sight of a smallish cloaked figure heading determinedly towards the spell duel. Ricardt lost sight of him as a drow with scales instead of hair noticed the blade in the paladin's hand and rushed forward to attack. Ricardt parried the charge away and elbowed the drow in the shoulder, knocking the elf off balance. The drow's momentary stumble was enough for the paladin to slip the shortsword's point under and into the elf's ribcage. The dragon-kin coughed blood and sagged forwards. Ricardt roughly shoved the dying elf away from him and Teilla and kept a wary eye out for anyone else who looked like they intended ill towards the paladin and the bard.

More crackles and popping sounded from both ends of the hallway._ I hope the spellcasters rescuing us are winning_, Ricardt thought worriedly. Teilla still sang her fierce melody with an alto voice accompanying. The tall drow in black slashed his swords in time to the song. The metallic clashes and wet slicing sounds issuing from his skirmish provided a grim percussive beat to the bard's battle song.

A sudden startled cry drew the paladin's attention away from the stunning display of bladework. When he looked, Ricardt caught sight of Gorruan trying to dislodge the small cloaked drow from his back. The wiry elf stabbed and slashed at the dragon-kin's throat and chest every chance he got with either of the two curved knives in his hands. As the drow-dragon tried slam the small elf into the wall of the hallway, the sun elf with the black sword moved in closer. The small sneaky elf dropped off Gorruan's back before he got to the wall and tackled the bigger elf-kin around the knees, knocking Gorruan totally off balance and giving the blond elf time to ram his sword's point into the drow-dragon's gut. As Gorruan collapsed, the small dark elf disentangled himself and coolly slashed open the drow-dragon's throat.

Ricardt realized that Teilla's battlesong had stopped. He surveyed the rest of the hallway. Jorin and Maresa stood with their backs to the wall, a bloodied longsword and a wand in their hands respectively. A copper haired sun elf female in a yellow dress standing at the opposite end of the hall whispered an quick incantation and the shimmery blue spell Sheilah around her winked out. A female drow in a slightly blood splattered white tunic and trousers with long white hair held a dripping bastard sword in one hand. The tall drow male in black stood breathing hard in the middle of a tangled mess of dead drow dragons. "Where's the girl?" he grated out in heavily accented common.

Ricardt instantly looked at the short dark elf. "Up here," the short drow said as he turned and started climbing one of he hallway's intricate archways. "I'm going to need help getting little Mir down."

The paladin stared into the carved tangle and finally saw Mirandaline,still unconscious wrapped up snugly. _Lucky her_, he thought,_ She missed the whole fracas._

"How did you get her all the way up there without anyone noticing?" The blond male elf asked in amazement.

"Very carefully," The small drow responded dryly. "Going up is easy. It's the getting down part that's difficult. Anyone have any useful spells that might help?"

Both sun elves shook their heads. The tall male drow huffed a sigh, "Damned spell slingers."

"Can you lower Mir down to us?" Ricardt asked.

The small drow nodded and Teilla asked in a reasonable voice, "Can we know who just saved our bacon?"

"I'm Ilyyela Miritar," The copper haired female sun elf said in measured tones.

"Starym," The blond sun elf said uneasily as he looked warily at Teilla.

The bard frowned at him, "Which one?"

Starym ignored her question and smirked, "Nice song."

"I'm Saerriin Mithias," The female drow said in a smooth alto voice. She waved at the tall drow in black. "That's my son, Zak."

Zak growled something under his breath before pointing at Jorin and Ricardt and continuing in an audible tone, "If you two give me a boost, we can get the girl down quicker."

"Why do you get to catch?" Jorin asked suspiciously.

"Because we're likely heavier than Master Zak is," Ricardt said quickly, hoping to forestall an argument.

"Can you hurry up?" The smaller drow's light tenor sounded tensely from above. "Something's very wrong with little Mir. She won't wake up."

_Little Mir?_ The paladin thought, puzzled. "And you are...?"

"Lowering Mir," He answered mildly. Ricardt frowned at the obvious evasion and the small agile dark elf added resignedly, "I'm Bhindax."

"You sound like you're worried that these clowns might recognize you," Zak snorted and glared at Ilyyela. "The wards don't lie. If they had a gap, a certain currently useless priest might be here to give us a hand."

"Quit giving me the stink eye," the lady sun elf sniffed. "My husband hit those wards at a full run and was knocked back."

"And yes, it would have been easier if only Mir came through," Bhindax huffed as he shifted the limp psion out of a tangle of carvings. "Are you all ready to catch the young eyas yet?"

Jorin looked unhappy but braced along the hallway's wall next to Ricardt. Zak stepped on the paladin's bent knee, climbed up to Jorin's and Ricardt's shoulders and put his back to the wall. The paladin crossed his arms and focused very hard on staying as still as possible braced against the wall. Saerriin and Maresa, the tallest of the girls, came close to help catch.

Bhindax carefully started to lower Mir gently down, taking care to keep the dark-wood elf's head and neck steady as he did so. Zak caught the psion's legs and shifted his weight around on Ricardt's shoulder to keep balanced. The paladin grunted with the added burden and did his best to stay steady. Zak let her slide into Maresa's and Saerriin's waiting arms. The paladin looked up long enough to see Teilla standing out of the way with her hands clasped together at chest level.

Finally the genasi and the lady drow lowered the psion to the ground. Zak hopped off Ricardt's and Jorin's shoulders. The paladin sagged to the floor in relief from the weight. Bhindax's voice floated down, "Can you clear away for a moment?"

The paladin looked up and saw the short drow hanging upside down, more or less holding on to the arch's carvings with his feet and nothing else. Ricardt scooted away from the arch. Bhindax flipped himself off his precarious perch to land softly in a crouch where Ricardt had been sitting. He nodded his thanks to the paladin and hurried over to where Mirandaline lay, still out cold. The paladin hauled himself to his feet and followed.

Bhindax dropped to his knees and started to check the psion over. Saerriin chanted something softly to no discernible effect. Ricardt moved to stand next to Teilla. The bard watched them closely, nibbling at her fingernails in worry. _She hasn't done that in years_, Ricardt thought. He put a gentle hand on the bard's shoulder and Teilla stepped closer to the paladin in response. Ricardt hugged her around her shoulders.

"I hate to ask uncomfortable questions," Zak's rough baritone grated into the quiet corridor, "But who tells the girl's mother what happened?"

"Don't look at me," Ilyyela shook her head and backed away. "I'd rather arm wrestle a bear."

Saerriin stopped her chanting and sighed, "She's in some sort of spell trance. I'm not sure how or if we can pull her out of it."

"I'll see if there's someone who can help and get through the mythal lockdown," Starym volunteered.

As the sun elf ran down the corridor, Bhindax took hold of one of Mir's hands and started talking softly, "Come on eyas, wake up... wake up... please..."

Ricardt frowned, _Wait a minute..._

Teilla stopped nibbling at her fingernails and finished Ricardt's thought, "How do you know to call Mir 'eyas'? She told us that only a few people knew her by that nickname."

The small drow shifted into sitting position and did not answer, preferring to hold the psion's hand in concern. Zak scrutinized Bhindax and commented, "I've seen you before, watching my weapons lessons with the girl. Usually after I had bad run ins with the girl's mother..." The swords-elf gave a sudden chuckle. "Well damn me back to the Demonweb. The she-wolf wasn't picking fights. She was running interference..."

"She looks just like her mother," Bhindax said softly. Ricardt got the distinct feeling the dark elf had not been listening at all.

"And you look like one of the illusions Lilleen showed when we first came here," Teilla observed. "The one Mir said she didn't know."

"She doesn't," Bhindax muttered glumly. "Never got the chance."

"Bhindax Hune?" Ricardt pressed gently.

The dark elf nodded. "Former merchant scout."

"You're Mir's father, aren't you?" the paladin guessed. Bhindax shrugged and Ricardt mentally kicked himself. _I forgot that most drow don't pay much attention to the paternal side_.

"Was interested in trying my hand at it," the scout said quietly, surprising the paladin. "Never got to though."

Ricardt nodded and looked at Teilla. The bard was playing very close attention to Bhindax. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to hear the whole story of that."

"Mir hears it first," The small drow said firmly, "After she wakes up."

The bard nodded. Jorin looked skeptical, "You can't be sure if she will wake up..."

"Oh yes I can," The scout gave a slight smile. "Little Mir might have learned a lot from Amaria, but she gets the psionics from me." His expression turned serious again. "Strength in it seems to skip generations though. I don't know what state she'll be in when she wakes up."

Zak's rough voice cut into the worried silence again, "What in the Abyss took you so long?"

Everyone jumped at the sound and looked around. "Bet he practices at that," Teilla grumbled softly. Ricardt gave a small nod and saw Starym heading towards them with a new elf following him. The fair skinned male looked a bit odd, particularly around the eyes. _Is that an eladrin?_ Ricardt wondered.

"Faenllach? Did we miss any of the intruders?" Saerriin asked.

"No, Amaria shot the two scouts as they left the tower," Faenllach smirked. "She got them before Kraanfhoar's circle did. How's the little one?"

"Still out," Ricardt glanced at Mirandaline to make sure. Aside from breathing, the psion had not moved.

"Not entirely." Bhindax lifted up his hand with all fingers spread. Mir clung to it with a pale knuckled grip. The scout shrugged, "I'm going to take losing feeling in my fingers as a good sign."

"So the elflet planar shifted the corridor with you all and the shadow dragon yahoos in it," Faenllach sighed. "The mythal locked down tight against outsiders. It took a lot of pushing to get me in here. I'm not entirely sure why though..."

"Will we be able to go back?" Maresa asked in a practical tone.

"I asked that." Starym spread his hands in apology. "Got a lot of shrugs in answer..."

A small groan interrupted the sun elf. "Hurts... so tired." Ricardt looked towards the source and saw Mir curling up into a ball, clutching her head with her eyes tightly shut. Bhindax gently rocked her and murmured soothingly.

Teilla slipped out of Ricardt's arms and knelt by the dark-wood elf. "What happened? Are you all right?"

Mir shook her head and curled up tighter. Teilla continued in a gentler tone, "We're all fine. Your trap worked."

Running footsteps and a soft rustling sounded from farther up the corridor. Ricardt turned and saw Lilleen sprinting breathlessly towards them, her skirts fluttering behind her. The Miyeritari mage skidded to a stop in front of Bhindax and Mir. "Child... I know you are not feeling your best, but I need to be sure," she said softly, gently stroking the psion's hair. " I need you to open your eyes and let me get a look at them."

"Head hurts," Mir grumbled.

"I know, little one," Lilleen coaxed, "I just need to check... There we go..." The loremistress looked closely before laughing in relief. "They are green. Grass green. Not changing."

"What does that mean?" Jorin asked. His question went unanswered as Lilleen skipped in joy.

"'Not changing?'" Maresa repeated. The genasi looked between Lilleen and Faenllach. "Like Araevin's?"

"And Kaeldin's," Faenllach noted. "And mine, but I came that way."

"Eladrin?" Ricardt asked. Faenllach nodded.

"Bralani to be precise," Ilyyela chimed in. The eladrin huffed an exaggerated sigh. Teilla and Saerriin giggled at the theatrical response.

"I think some rest should be in order for you, eyas..." Bhindax started.

"No... have to look up shadow magic," The psion mumbled and tried to get up. "Got to..."

"Sit and rest, child," Lilleen cut in. "I will tell Kaeldin and your cousin outside that you all are all right and that they should meet you somewhere..."

"Evereska," Teilla supplied. "Kileontheal's there and might have some ideas."

"Or we could search our captors' pockets to find some clue as to where their allies are," Ricard suggested mildly. "See where they are and then surprise them?"

"In the meantime," Maresa looked around at everyone, "Evereska seems like a good choice. Some rest seems like a good idea too."

"I can get us back," Mir put in tiredly.

"It would be a bad idea to do so right now, child," Lilleen said sternly. "You are completely tapped out and the mythal should be allowed to settle before trying another teleport."

"Is there a place where we can get away from the leftovers there?" Jorin asked. "Or put them somewhere... or something?"

"There is," Faenllach smirked. "Everyone who killed a marauder, search him and then I'll magic the remains away."

"There's a study through that door," Lilleen pointed down the hallway a little ways. "I should go inform Kaeldin to meet you all in Evereska. There are people out there who know the way, right?"

"Yes," Ricardt reassured the mage as he went to search the drow-dragon he had dispatched. "Heinfor should be able to guide them well." Lilleen nodded and then disappeared with an arcane whisper of power.

"Mistress Teilla?" Bhindax nudged the bard. "Could you give me a hand getting little Mir tucked in that study?"

"Sure," The red haired half-elf slung one of the woozy psion's arms over her shoulders. Mirandaline leaned on the pair as they started walking down the corridor.

"I'll be all right Dada," Mir said softly as they went.

_Looks like that reunion went all right_, Ricardt smiled. He turned his attention to the dead drow-dragon. He found a few coins that he had never seen before and set them aside. _Maybe someone here will know where they're from._

A rolling grumble in an awful sounding language sounded over the soft sounds of cloth and leather scraping against stone and the occasional muted thump as a body was rolled over. "Damn amateurs," Zak growled. "If you all were better at blades, I wouldn't be searching six bodies."

Jorin snorted a laugh and turned it into a cough. Ricardt smothered his own chuckle. Saerriin appreared to hide a smile. Faenllach had his mouth covered and his shoulders shook. _I guess hearing him grouse that everyone isn't up to his standard is a common sound,_ Ricardt shook his head in amusement.

"I've got papers here," Starym crowed. "In a cipher no less."

"Mir said that the mage she met in Evereska worked out the coded papers," Ricardt grinned. "Sounds like a lead to me."

"That dark elf better rest up quicker then," Maresa said grimly. "We likely need explanations sooner rather than later."

--)--------

Author's note: All right, I'm really sorry about the delay in chapters and leaving kind readers on a nail biting cliffhanger, but life has been very busy. Happily so, but still busy. Anyway, I hope that this chapter was worth the wait.


	21. Tangled Hopes and Fears

Disclaimer: Wizards of the Coast can kiss my patootie. This is an alternate universe!

* * *

Sharnar quietly checked the copies he had made of the old historical scrolls in the diffuse sunlight of the Evereskan library, making every effort not to squint against the glare and suppressing the urge to glance nervously around. _There's no spell to wear off_, he reminded himself. _No one would expect a drow to use anything so mundane as face paint and hair dye._ He gathered up his materials and headed towards the library's exit.

The elven city nestled in the mountains was cool enough that the shadow elf had no worry about his disguise wearing thin due to sweating. _It's also fortunate that recent events here have left many shut in their own little worlds_, he thought sumgly as he nodded at the raven haired novice minding the check out desk. The novice ignored the disguised shadow elf as he tinkered with a small clockwork box. Keeping his head down and his pace easy, Sharnar made his way to the small room he rented in the academic district of the city.

There were still piles of rubble left over from the war with the phaerimm and the city of Shade. The emotional scars of that conflict and the more recent battle with the daemonfey seemed writ into every face that Sharnar passed. _I wonder if they realize how much like the undercreatures in the drow cities they look_, he mused. _So weak and beaten. Small wonder that getting this far was so easy compared to everything else I've had to deal with._

He stopped for a hot meal before heading up to his small private room. _I'll give the surfacers one thing, the food is better than at home_, he smiled to himself. _Now let's see, I need to compare these with a few of the notes from the artifacts..._ He carefully cast spells to shield the room from prying eyes before starting the more complicated teleport that would take him to his study in Chaulssin.

The daylight world faded to a deep blackness that Sharnar welcomed as if it were an old friend. _Finally, I can see without being dazzled!_ Sighing in relief, he started towards his desk and began to flip through the journals resting atop it, when someone pounded on the door heavily.

Before Sharnar could tell whoever it was to shove off, the door jumped on its hinges and its intricate lock broke. In strode a taller drow-dragon, wings half flared and irritation etched into his every gesture. "Patron Father Tomphael," Sharnar bowed. "To what do I owe your esteemed presence in my humble apartments?"

The drow-dragon glared down at the shadow elf and sneered, "Gorruan has dropped from my sight. Where is he?"

_I wish I had the leisure to scrub the disguise off before coming here_. Sharnar steadied himself before responding, "If all had gone according to plan, he would have dropped from scrying view for a while. He's hunting in some heavily warded ruins."

"You did not see fit to inform me, thin skin," Patron father Tomphael stated coldly. "it would be better for you to keep me better informed."

_Arrogant scale brain, I have been keeping him informed enough._ Sharnar scrubbed all emotion off of his face. "Of course Patron Father. Gorruan should be in a small pocket plane at the moment. My sources have speculated that time behaves differently within it. He should present himself soon enough. In any case, my research is not dependent upon his findings in that particular site."

"Oh really?" The drow-dragon snorted. "The ruins you sent him to last time didn't turn up anything."

_Nothing that you would understand._ "I found some leads and am following up on them personally," Sharnar kept his tone neutral. _You don't need to know how close I am to figuring out the key to shadow weaving until I present it to you._

Tomphael grinned a mouth full of sharp teeth. "There is nothing that you can accomplish that those true sons of Chaulssin cannot." With that, the Patron Father turned and stormed out of the shadow mage's study with a leathery rustle of wings.

Sharnar stood for a moment, trembling slightly in wordless fury. _Anything they think they can do with magic, I can do better_, he reminded himself. _They are so blinded by their draconic heritage that they think it superior to the elven. But the elves can do better, have done better than any dragon could ever hope to accomplish even in a thousand lifetimes._

With deliberate calm, the shadow elf found the journals he needed and teleported back to the daylight world, using the threads of the Shadow Weave to materialize back into the shadows of the small rented room. In the relative safety of the little cubby, Sharnar sat on his reverie couch and looked over the Aryvandaaran theories about mixing the Shadow Weave with traditional mythals before turning his attention to the history of Evereska's major wards.

* * *

Kileonthal listened patiently to the frustrated librarian. "I don't see how that book was misfiled!" The blue haired moon elf continued to look flustered. "If I didn't know any better I'd think that some spirit were playing tricks on me, but the ones I've summoned and spoken to swear it isn't them."

"Calm down, Rainnea," the mage soothed. "I do not doubt you. What exactly did the air spirits say they saw?"

"Only shadows cast by the lanterns, Mage," Rainnea answered. "They didn't see anybody and they swore up and down that no one disturbed them coming in. And after Shade returned, we made sure that they knew what to look for should one of the Shadovar came sneaking around."

"I will look into it, young one," Kileontheal assured the librarian and sent her out of her small parlor. The old mage poured herself a cup of cold herbal tea and worked a small spell to summon her newest helper to her rooms. As she waited on him, Kileontheal reviewed all that the librarian had told her.

_Tomes regarding the history of Evereska's wards are walking around the library. Nothing but lantern shadows, the air spirits say. They were not disturbed._ She frowned. _Yet the books are continuously moving around. One day found in the accounts of the Harpstar wars. A few days later, near the ecologies. Next in the atlases. The books are always found again and they aren't leaving the library itself. The library's wards would have been triggered if that were the case..._

A soft rap at the door shook the mage from her thoughts. "Enter!" She called as she refilled her own cup and poured a second. A small wry, black haired male elf in an unremarkable tunic, trousers and boots walked in. "Ah, Jassin. How was the front desk today?"

Jassin plopped down in the chair across from the mage and rummaged around in his pocket. "Truth be told, it was kind of dull. Did something happen?"

Kileontheal waited until the younger elf pulled his small clockwork out and started to fiddle with it. "Out of curiosity, what is that supposed to do?"

"What, this?" Jassin blinked. "Oh, give me a moment..." He pulled a slender rod of metal from a different pocket, stuck it into a slot and turned it a few times. When he removed it, a little tinkling melody played for a few measures before ending. "It's nothing compared to a live player, but it's a good way to record simple songs."

"Ah." The mage returned to the problem at hand. "Do you remember seeing anyone in the history section about a sevenday ago?"

"There were four people who left from there while I was minding the front desk like you asked," the trapspringer answered promptly.

_Corellon bless the memory training they give the Tomb Guard auxillaries_, Kileontheal thought. "Did any of those elves sit in the Ecology section a few days ago or in the maps section today or yesterday?"

Jassin thought a moment before answering. "There's a quiet fellow who I seem to remember browsing through all those sections with a few books. A little taller than I am. Nothing flashy, straw yellow hair. Sun elf I think, but on the pale side. There's something else..."

The mage sat quietly, sipped her tea and did not rush the younger elf. When the Tomb Guard had been more numerous, they had frequently gone underground and quick memorization and excellent recall were traits that they nurtured among their members. They learned to memorize maps and rooms at first glance in order to find their way around without tripping into or over things in case an excavation party's lights went out suddenly.

"...The books he carried." Jassin's soft voice broke gently into the mage's musing. "He brought a copybook in with him but there was always one book, a few fingerwidths thick with a brown cover that he had in each section, regardless of which section he was in."

"Can you remember the title?" Kileontheal asked with interest.

The moon elf shook his head. "Couldn't make out the lettering."

"Keep track with which sections he goes in and if you can see which books he is carrying, take note of those too, but don't interfere with him directly," the mage cautioned.

Jassin nodded. "It's a bad idea to jump into things blind. Want me to tail him?"

Remembering how she had surprised him when he snuck into a secure prison section with the full intention of letting a friend's cousin out and not getting caught at it, Kileontheal chuckled. "If the opportunity presents itself, as discreetly as you can."

The trapspringer snickered as he got up to leave. "I'll find out where he lives, if possible. Nothing risky though."

"Good lad," the old sun elf smiled, "And good luck."

Jassin gave a little wave as he shut the door behind him leaving Kileontheal alone with her thoughts. A_ break in at one of the more dangerous Crown wars tombs by dragon blooded dark elves. A Miyeritari student of the High Art returned and playing spy. Enemy spies watching Araevin Teshurr. And now someone is sniffing around Evereska's wards. Something is in play. We just don't know what. Yet._

* * *

_Bloody surfacers_, Sharnar thought in irritation. _I think they're referring to the mythal when they say "weaving" but that doesn't tell me anything about how it's put together!_ Thoroughly annoyed, he pushed his papers back and stared at the wall for a few moments before getting up, retouching his disguise and heading out the door for an early evening walk. He walked for a little while before he realized that he felt chilled and he slid into a dimly candle lit inn to warm up.

As he sat and waited for someone to take an order for hot mulled wine, the shadow elf took an apple from a basket on the center of the table and munched on it thoughtfully. Fresh fruit from the surface had always been a rare delicacy in Chaulssin. _How am I ever going to enjoy this back home?_

A musician played something unfamiliar involving a lute on the other side of the common room and a pair of elves were slowly dancing very deliberately to the chords. A few other patrons scattered about the tables seemed nestled in their own little worlds. In the subdued atmosphere, his mind wandered back to his puzzle of terminology.

_A weaving..._ He studied the half eaten apple. He looked at the basket he had taken it from. _They couldn't have meant it literally... could they?_ Sharnar looked more closely at the basket. _Multiple strands woven tightly together. Strong and light... flexible... But there's a small hole in the center._

Sharnar smiled as the server took his order. _A hole, built into the unbreechable wall. Now I just need to figure out where it is._

The next day, Sharnar decided against a library trip. Instead, he studied and cast

a spell that Gorruan had pilfered from the mage in Myth Drannor with a few modifications from the Aryvandaaran notes on dabbling between the Shadow Weave and the Mystra's Weave. With the spell of sight firmly in place, Sharnar went out for a stroll in the early morning light to see what he could see.

* * *

Mirandaline slowly roused from a dreamless sleep, bit by bit. She noticed the soft, familiar texture and heather smell of the coverlet in her rooms at Kraanfhoar tower. For an awful moment she thought that the trip to the Shadow Plane, escaping to and from Evereska and visiting Whizban had been some sort of especially vivid hallucination. She could feel two elves in the the room with her, both familiar. Cool pride, electric joy and a soothing wash of relief emanated from both of them.

Mir opened her eyes and found three people in her room. Teilla sat on a low cushioned stool that looked like it had been pilfered from Corythin's study with her head pillowed on her arms at the foot of the worn velveteen reverie couch. From the slow, even rhythm of the half elf's breathing, Mir guessed that the bard was fast asleep. On a chair behind Teilla, a vaguely familiar drow male sat deep in reverie. The psion debated rousing him and asking where she knew him from, but an insistent drumbeat in her temples warned her that moving might not be the wisest choice at the moment. "Ah, you are awake," Lilleen's soft soprano voice, broke into Mirandaline's rising headache.

The psion shifted carefully into a sitting position, so as to not disturb her friend's slumber and asked the obvious. "What happened?"

Lilleen raised her eyebrows before continuing in a soothing tone, "I was hoping you could fill in some of the blanks for me actually. That obnoxious swords-elf and a few of his friends took care of those odious dragon-elves. A few minor cuts, some rope burns and a lot of confusion are all that befell your travelmates."

"Oh good," Mir sighed in relief and began to recount the events in the strange garden as best she could. "I was in a garden and there was this warded golden sphere that felt like Kaeldin, except more like Kaeldin than Kaeldin is." Lilleen motioned for her to continue. "There was also someone called Morwel there. I think she was an eladrin. I had to break the sphere without get caught in its wards." The psion thought a moment, before realizing who the strange drow seemed like. "He helped me," she said, pointing at him. I had to hold onto something to extricate myself from the sphere's traps."

"So that's why you had such a grip on my hand," A very soft tenor commented. Mir's attention swung to the somewhat familiar elf. He regarded her with ruddy dark eyes. "Do you remember what you said when Mistress Lilleen shook you awake earlier? It's been a very long time since I heard it, eyas."

The psion shook her head and his face fell a little bit. Mir studied him a little while longer before she continued, "I sense family best though. That's why I could find you even with the eladrin right there. You're my dada."

"Little Mir, meet Bhindax Hune," Lilleen supplied. "I see you have already figured out your connection."

"Well, being dead didn't seem like much of an excuse, " Bhindax shrugged and spread his hands in apology, a vaguely scratchy regret wafting off of him. "I have only had a handful of chances to do something for my eyas. Passing one up because I had the poor taste to be dead and in Arvandor? I'd get directions from the weapons master and march myself to the Demonweb first."

Mir giggled and Bhindax grinned, bright as slim cresent moon. "You made that laugh when you were tiny too."

Lilleen softly cleared her throat, "Well I shall give you a few minutes to do some catching up. Perhaps our mythal has relaxed enough to let the rest of the circle in."

Mir had the distinct feeling that the rest of Kraanfhoar's mage circle was there already and in a celebratory mood whose glow she could just discern, but said nothing as the loremistress glided out with a little wave. Bhindax shifted in his seat and the psion could feel a trickle of icy unease from him. "You must have questions you would like answers to," he commented mildly.

"Mother was sure that if you could come back to Whizban, you would have," Mir said quietly. "She said so every time I asked. What happened?"

"The trip I had planned on slipping away from my caravan had a bad encounter in the Labyrinth," Bhindax explained. " I was lucky enough to escape the initial rush of minotaurs but, got hammered in the side passages. It was pretty quick. I didn't feel a thing although I did get the sense that something bad was going to happen." At her puzzled look, he added, "I've a minor psionic talent. Good for figuring out where my path lay. I'm told it isn't uncommon for strength in the mind magics to skip generations."

Mir nodded. "I've heard something similar. What made you want to leave in the first place? Uncle Lornith was sure that something else..."

"Can't really blame him, but Lornith was never the most accepting of people," Bhindax frowned. "Without fail, you always woke up laughing when I managed to sneak around and you would start to cry when he came near. Amaria always said that you were the best warning we had for when someone was coming nearby especially the second time I snuck in to meet Amaria and you."

"Oh?" Mir shifted with interest.

"It's rather embarrassing," the dark elf chuckled, "Because I shouldn't have fallen asleep in a chair with you in my arms in the middle of an elven clan with at least one person who would have been very displeased to see me nearby. The other merchant scouts would have had a mutiny if they ever found out I'd been that lax."

The psion smiled as he continued, "I liked telling stories with your mother. I liked not worrying about someone knifing me in the back because they wanted my job. We had more than a few long nights trading stories that I don't actually remember all too clearly... It felt like a weight of tension left when I stopped in Whizban, that I what I had thought was relaxing before in the Underdark was some pale diluted imitator compared to what I found." Bhindax smiled. "Then there was you and Amaria. When she said that she wasn't going to Evermeet with her clan, I started to play with the idea of leaving my own. It was becoming a good time to do so, since a lot of the scouts were getting job offers from other merchant clans with veiled threats attached... You have some idea how drow politics work right?"

Mir nodded and the dark elf ended his story with a wistful sigh, "Unfortunately it didn't work out that way. I would have liked it to."

She propped up her chin on her hands and said quietly, "I wish it had worked out that you could have stayed with Mother and me."

Whatever Bhindax would have said next was stalled by Teilla stirring in her sleep. Mirandaline felt uncomfortably awkward and nudged her friend awake. "Hey Teilla."

"Morning," the half elf yawned. "You've been out like a doused torch for a while."

Mir sighed theatrically and rolled her eyes, Bhindax hid a grin, "Long enough for..."

"Long enough for that thrice cursed seer to drive me to distraction!" A perpetually grouchy baritone voice cut in from the door. Mir saw Mithias stick his head into her room to better continue his tirade. "Get your lazy, inept arse out of bed you good for nothing mind bender!"

Having heard this particular rant before, Mir's response was simple and as contrived as the swords-elf's irritation. "Why?"

"That Sophon's been teasing me with a bottle of what he calls 'the finest bottle of sparkling wine ever produced,'" Mithias growled as he stalked into the room and glowered at everyone in it. "Being no stranger to drinking, I challenged him on it, since the best bubbly I ever had was a case of Tethir champagne that had been laced with elven liqueur. However, and this is why you are a currently a lazing mind bender, we need to have you in the room when we open it, because it's your celebration. Now are you awake or..."

"I'm up!" Mir laughed. She could not help it. _Mithias and Sophon having a civil conversation, I have to see that!_

With a twitch of his lip that might have been a smile, Mithias turned on his heel and sauntered out.

The psion looked at Teilla and Bhindax. Both of them looked like they were trying to hold back gales of laughter with only partial success at it. Teilla snickered, "It's true. I left after Ricardt came back after watching you sleep."

"And to think I would have sworn a few days ago that you would have been sitting right there recording Miyeritari drinking songs!" Mir teased.

"I did," Teilla replied smugly. "They started forgetting the words by the fourth time around."

Bhindax chuckled. "So I suppose the real question is will it look like the morning after the night before once the guest of honor arrives?"

* * *

When they got to the turnstile hall, Mir noticed that everything seemed a little bit cleaner and dust free than she remembered. "Messy fight?" she asked.

"A bit," Bhindax shrugged. "They split up. Made it easier to deal with them, even with hostages."

"Says the elf who literally pulled one Mir out from under their dragony noses," Teilla snorted.

"I had help from a weaponsmaster who is very good at being a distraction," the dark elf shrugged.

They walked into a sitting room that Mir knew to have been one of the old teachers' lounges. Immediately a cheer greeted her and someone put a wine glass into her hand. The sharp explosion of a cork popping made her jump but her hand was held steady as her glass was filled.

"Finally!" Maresa waved. "These idiot elves have been teasing us for ages about the sparkling stuff."

"Only because you have utterly no idea what you've been drinking for the past few hours, young windchild," Corythin chided mildly. "Sophon's personal stash of wine is not something to be guzzled."

"How do you keep the wine from going off?" Ricardt asked from a slpuched position in an arm chair.

"Enchanted bottles and corks," Sophon replied from next to Mir. "Since most of these have been modified by either myself or Kaeldin, I think we can be pretty much assured that the vintage has not gone bad."

"If the wine is so very good, then... AYY! COLD!" Mithias's customary growl scaled a few octaves into a yelp as Lilleen nonchalantly dumped an ice bucket over him.

"As the only person in the room with the authority to coach you in matters of social etiquette, do be quiet," She told him sweetly as he spluttered. "You get served last." The loremistress poured a glass for Bhindax, delicately ignoring the muttered curses that Mithias slung in her direction as Jorin tossed the weaponsmaster a towel to dry off with.

"If you don't mind?" Ricardt presented his glass to Lilleen, who shrugged and filled it. The drow's swearing eventually subsided as everyone relaxed for a moment or two.

Corythin handed Mir a carefully folded sheaf of thin papers. "Recognize the script?"

The psion scanned the symbols. "They look like the coded papers I found in that shop in Balefire."

The mage nodded and handed her a thicker set of pages. "Read through that" he said as he sipped at his wine. "That's what Lilleen decoded."

"'Take the girl alive. She is the key to accessing Kraanfhoar. Break her if you need to. Will be tracking down lore in my own elevated way elsewhere. The Shadows shook the surfacers, perhaps they figured something out on their own. Sharnar,'" Mir read and looked up. "That doesn't sound like they're after Lady Miritar or Mage Teshurr."

"There can't be many places that they could conceivably raid for elven magic lore," Ricardt put in. "They would be spotted in an instant by anyone keeping a look out for illusions."

"'Shadows shook the surfacers'..." Teilla thought out loud. "Evereska is the only place that I can think of."

Jorin looked around at the silent High mages. "Don't you have anything to add to this?"

Sophon ignored the question entirely, preferring to move to sit behind Corythin. Corythin shrugged. Lilleen snorted, "we are about as retired as we can possibly get and most of us are barely keeping tabs on your time any more."

The half-elven ranger turned and started to ask the same question of Mithias. The drow glared the question out of the ranger. "Don't even bother asking, nature boy. I never set foot on the surface."

"In any case," Lilleen gave an arch glance at the swords-elf, "Unless I am very much mistaken, the mythal needs some recovery time. It's entirely possible that Kraanfhoar's new gaurdian needs rest as well. Mir...?"

The psion took a quick mental inventory. "I'm tapped out, but not as badly as the last time I tried weave pulling. A day or two of rest maybe. This wasn't nearly as rough as going through Evereska's wards."

"Time at least is something we have in abundance at the moment," Sophon grinned. "Have you tried the wine yet Mir? My family's vintage."

"It is very good," Mithias sipped at his cup, unusually sincere. "Two different kinds of grapes mixed, if I'm not mistaken."

"One of them is a dessert wine grape," Maresa put in. The unlikely combination of diviner, swords-elf and genasi began discussing all things alcoholic with the encyclopedic knowledge and discernment of experts. They proceeded to ignore everyone else in the room. Corythin stage whispered, "They have been like this since Sophon raided his personal stash. 'Tis better not to think about it too much."

Mir and Teilla giggled. They conned the mage into telling stories while everyone took their rest as they could and make the most of the enforced break.

* * *

Much later, Teilla and Ricardt had somehow managed to fall asleep in the same chair. Jorin had been quietly played sava games with Maresa, Corythin, and Bhindax, but now they watched the scout and Sophon try to out guess each other. Mir had watched her father beat the pants off the three of them and between Bhindax's limited short term foresight and Sophon's long game predictions, it was turning into quite the match up.

It should feel strange to know that he was willing to stay with Mother and me, she thought. But it just seems like the most natural thing in the world. Sighing a little at the enforced inactivity, Mir got up to find a blanket for the bard and the paladin.

Lilleen had been talking with closely with Mithias and the pair of them beckoned the psion over. Curious as to what had managed to pull the lore mistress and the weaponsmaster into what looked like a truce from their more usual bickering, Mirandaline joined them. "We're discussing tactics and who might be behind this incursion into Everseka," Lilleen said without preamble.

"Probably the Jaezred Chaulssin," Mithias put in. "I've fought them before. Sneaky bastards."

"Before now?" Mir asked. The weaponsmaster almost never volunteered anything about his past.

"Inherited a network of informants." At her alarmed look, he added "Legitimately inherited. A few of the Chaulssin tried to 'acquire' a few of my people. They had to be... dealt with in order for them to leave mine alone."

"Your informants didn't sell you out?" Mir blinked. _That's not along the usual stories one hears about Underdark deals._

"My organization defends its own," he shrugged, "but that isn't the point."

"Sophon and I are pretty sure that this one is a shadow spell caster," Lilleen explained. "Mages who use the Weave will be able to see where he's been and see the end result on the mythal strands, but they can't see the shadow magic interfering with it."

"I can't see it either," Mir reminded the dark elf.

"No, but you can touch and manipulate it," Lilleen countered. "Which is more than what they can do unaided."

"You think I'll have to break the shadowcaster's connection to his own spells," the psion finished. "I'd have to be in contact with him long enough to discern the shadow strands. And he'd have to alive and probably consious for it. If it's even a 'he.'"

"The Chaulssin are Vhaeruanites. The caster is in all likelihood a male," Mithias commented.

_But I'm awful at hand to hand. Maybe I can shoot the caster and tie them up..._ Mir thought worriedly but the weapons master cut into her train of thought, "You could get that human sword swinger of yours to pin him down."

"I'll need to limit the psionics," Mir tried thinking out loud. "Weave tugging requires a lot of mind work."

"Kaeldin and Kileontheal will probably be able to help ease any friction with the weaving, but you might well be on your own to pull the shadow strands around," Lilleen added. "I don't know what you will have to do once the Shadow strands are out of this Sharnar's control. It depends on what he has been trying to do."

Mithias looked at the psion hard for a while. "You might be able to out fight him, provided you aren't using a rothe-sticker. Mages usually aren't their best when sat on or wrestled with. If that knife of yours becomes a liability you already know to ditch it. I've had you do that in practice, with live blades."

_I must look as overwhelmed as I feel, if Mithias is expousing thinking positively_. Mir managed a nod and the drow added, "Don't try to outfight or overpower the bastard, outthink and outflank him."

"And get lucky I suppose," Mir tried a weak smile.

"Getting lucky helps," Lilleen said encouragingly. "Your friends will too."

Mirandaline tried to look confident and hopeful as she nodded. _But the weave pulling is going to be mostly me... I hope it doesn't come to that._

As the lore mistress and the swords-elf began to nudge the room's occupants into getting ready to leave, the psion tried very hard not to dwell on how close to dying she had come the last time she tried tugging at the fabric of magic.

* * *

Sharnar had made a discovery. The Aryvandaaran spells worked flawlessly and he could see his handiwork in a few spots here and there in Evereska's mythal. He had expected that of an elven empire that had once rivaled Ilythiir's. He wished he could skip down the elven street, but caution reined in the shadow-drow's exuberance.

But no, he had stumbled upon something much better. The mythal strands led to a place underground. A secluded place. The undead wizard guarding it had been dealt with. Sharnar packed up his few belongings and quietly paid his rent, determined to move his plans to a more fruitful location.

Sharnar had found the Evereskan mythal stone.

* * *

Author's note: An apology is thus issued to all the people who have read this story and sighed about it being unfinished. Life, marriage, work and my rediscovered love of reviewing and commentary have been taking up a lot of time. But fear not! I have not forgotten this story. In fact, the end of this story was my Nano Wrimo project. And I finished it! :D Updates will be much quicker for the next few months.


	22. Resolve

Disclaimer: WotC owns the setting and some of these characters. The plot and the rest of the characters are mine.

* * *

Jassin caught sight of his quarry and carefully divided his attention between the shrine in front of him and the pale sun elf carefully picking his way down through the memorial grounds. _I don't think he can see me through the bushes..._

The moon elf's worry proved unfounded as the suspected spy passed by without so much as a glance in the trapspringer's direction. Jassin had been keeping tabs on the strange elf for much of the last week. _He's been getting scarcer the longer this goes... I wonder if he moved his sleeping spot._

The pale blond elf turned off the path and into the older mausoleums. Feeling a surge of vindication, Jassin waited a moment before quietly moving towards the turn off. The moon elf peeked around the corner in time to catch a glimpse of the spy heading into an old, run down crypt.

After waiting several minutes, the trapspringer strolled to the entrance and made sure that no one was watching and peeked inside. Dark of course. He took a deep breath and stopped.

Something smelled off about the mauseleum. Jassin was used to the dust and the damp and the cold that one usually encountered in old tombs. _This place is far too old to have new residents. I should not be smelling rot._

For a brief moment, Jassin considered scouting further ahead. In the end, he turned back to report to Kileontheal.

* * *

Kaeldin dropped into the sturdy wooden chair with a sigh of profound relief. Heinfor slid into the chair next to him with a grin. "Been a while since you rode a horse?"

_Young Mir's cousin is about the most indomitable person I have ever met._ The wood elven scout had smoothed the journey to Evereska with a sunny disposition that shifted to deadly earnest in a heartbeat when it was warranted. _But,_ Kaeldin admitted as he shot a glare at the younger elf, _Sometimes he carries on just a bit too much._ "If I had a cane, I would hit you with it, whippersnapper."

Heinfor laughed as Nesterin and Filasande joined them at the table. Nesterin flopped into a chair, put his head on the table and tried to doze. The cleric gently rubbed the spellsinger's back and said, "They're turning out a few rooms for us now."

"You two will rest easier in beds tonight," Heinfor nodded. "Although given another week, you'd probably feel strange in one."

Kaeldin suppressed a groan. _Assuming I do not hear Arvandor's call again. They are getting stronger the longer I am here._

Since leaving what was left of Miyeritar, after he had gotten over the shock that ten thousand years after the Dark Disaster fell his homeland was still mostly wasteland, they had made the unfortunate discovery that Kaeldin could not be left alone for long periods of time. He was too old and the call was too strong for him to successfully resist without someone helping him stay in the here and now. _I have to stay long enough to make sure my apprentice will be all right. I need to do it quickly though, else I might end up pulling my anchor away when I do pass to Arvandor_.

They ordered food and drink and relaxed for the time being. Kaeldin looked around the Halfway Inn and felt distinctly out of place. The music was different from what he remembered. _It used to be outdoor taverns with only the kitchens and bar in a building. Everything else was always outside and shaded with overhanging flowering vines, not the enclosed and cosily lit nooks that most common rooms and tap houses seem to favor now._

Their wine arrived and as the mage took a sip he could not help but think that even the vintner's art had changed in the time that had passed. _It tastes nothing like what Sophon's family made_, he thought sadly. _I feel like some shadowy figure of legend that was never meant to set foot in the real world. There doesn't seem to be anything left of Miyeritar at all_.

Heinfor had started teasing Nesterin, the veteran scout gently ribbing the novice campaigner. _Well, at least the wood elves are still as they ever were_, he thought with a smile.

"Heinfor?" A slight, worried moon elf edged his way through the tables, headed towards the scout. "I need to talk to you."

"Jassin?" the wood elf blinked, "Pull up a chair and grab a glass."

Jassin pulled a chair from a nearby table and asked hopefully, "Your cousin is somewhere nearby, isn't she?"

_Better to get this out of the way quickly_, Kaeldin thought and cut in, "What is the problem that requires my apprentice?"

Jassin straightened a little at the authoritative tone and answered in a low voice, "Mage Kileontheal thinks that something has been done to our mythal."

The mage took a long sip of his wine. _Damn those dragon elf traitors! _"How soon would Mage Kileontheal like my apprentice to look at it?"

"Um, as soon as possible?" Jassin looked at Kaeldin uncertainly. "Honestly I have no clue how long these things take."

"Oh, before my manners escape completely... Jassin, meet Kaeldin," Heinfor hastily made introductions. "Jassin was my scouting team's trapspringer while we were in Myth Drannor."

"You had manners to start with?" Kaeldin sighed with resignation. _Times like these, I wish Lilleen had drawn the short straw._

Filaesande caught his mood. "Mir will likely want to see you again," she reminded him in a low voice.

Kaeldin forestalled his first reply with a sip of wine. Nesterin groaned, "We can head into Evereska in the morning. I'm tired."

Jassin gave the spellsinger a measuring look before nodding. "I don't know how urgent it is. If it's really bad, don't be surprised if Mage Kileontheal comes visiting tonight."

"Til then, our sorry arses are going to get some rest," Heinfor chuckled. "Can't expect the inexperienced to... Ouch!"

Kaeldin's toe felt sore from kicking Heinfor's shin, but the mage was too tired to deal with more bad jokes. Heinfor grinned like the innate prankster he undoubtedly was in happier times. As Jassin took his leave, they all tucked into a hot meal and decent wine, at least by Kaeldin's standards. The mage attempted to squelch his lingering feelings of being out of place and a curiosity. _It does not help in the slightest that it is true._

Fortified by food and drink, they tottered up to their rooms. "It's a small room and a private parlor," Nesterin told them as they climbed the stairs. "I figured we might want a bit of space."

"What, you didn't want to take reverie all snuggled together?" Heinfor grinned.

The spellsinger spluttered incoherently for a moment or two as he turned a rather striking shade of magenta. Filaesande sighed and rolled her eyes, "I'm sure it's just because Heinfor has all the manners of a poorly trained hunting hound that he would want to rest in a puppy pile."

Kaeldin chuckled a bit and Heinfor laughed, "Well, that and it got bloody cold in the Stormhorns in the wintertime."

* * *

After the star elf and the cleric had retired to the tiny room, Heinfor sat in reverie on a cushion on the floor while Kaeldin looked out of the window towards the elven city of Evereska. Concerned with Jassin's unease and urgency, the mage cast a simple spell of mythal sight, careful not to rouse the resting scout.

_Well, that certainly is not a good sign_, he thought dazedly. From his distant vantage point, the mythal should have looked smooth and whole, like a big overturned bowl. Instead, there were discernible lumps and gaps in the mythal weave, as if some outside force that he could not discern even with his sight augmented was pulling the strands of the mythal apart without breaking them. _This is going to be one doozy of a chore_.

A soft knock at the door, jarred the mage out of his surprise. When he opened it it he looked down at the petite sun elf leaning on a staff in front of the door. Since his spell was still active, he could see the the Art swirling about her, like light given off by a fire. "Kileontheal, I presume?"

"You presume correctly," She nodded. "From the degree of magic I can see radiating off of you and your odd accent, I would suppose that you are Mirandaline Sparrowhawk's teacher."

He motioned his fellow mage into the parlor and they sat at the small table. "_Thine weaving is in quite the disarray._" He switched into Seldruin. _No need to bother Heinfor awake yet._

"_Amongst my peers we have much cause for concern_," Kileontheal answered in the same language. "_Much of the High Art has been lost to us. There is no record of such things happening in our histories._"

"_Fortunate are thee, that an apprentice to Kraanfhoar was accepted, sent forth and returned_," Kaeldin noted. "_Our apprentices do tend to arrive when they could potentially do the most good_."

She smiled sadly, "_By thine design or by chance_?"

The sylvan elf shrugged. "_Our diviner was very, very good. Skilled enough to see the Dark Disaster before it hit. The circle was determined enough to shield that which we held dear. We have ever been a small flame of hope in the darkness. Not all the lights we sent forth wholly succeeded in their tasks. Only one returned_."

"_She burns brightly indeed_," the sun elf agreed. "_Can thee help us mend our weaving?_"

"_Perhaps..._" Kaeldin hedged. "_A few of our scouts and spies heard rumors that Aryvandaarran mages were experimenting with something to augment their spells... we were never able to find anything conclusive though._"

A flicker of lights inside the window caught his attention. After a moment or two, a transparent Lilleen joined them in the room. Kileontheal's jaw dropped slightly, but she had the grace to not make a fuss about the lore mistress's sudden appearance. _Or her general appearance_, Kaeldin reminded himself. _There are very few who would be considered true Ssri'tel'quessir rather than dhaerow_. "_How fares the circle?_"

"_Thine apprentice is well and our weaving holds true_," The spirit answered. "_My bounds have expanded, it would seem._"

Kileontheal recovered from her initial shock and asked, "_What think thee of the troubled weaving?_"

"_Our apprentice can ferret out the hidden strands, but will likely need support to do so_," Lilleen said matter of factly.

"_She is far too young to take the full strain of the High Art on her own_," the sun elf agreed. "_I pulled her through when the child might have been lost between the planes on her attempt slip into Evereska._"

"_She is resilient though_," Kaeldin put in. "_With time, the spirit grows __stronger._"

"_One need only to look at thee to realize this_," Kileontheal noted. Lilleen chuckled.

Kaeldin snorted at the observation. "_For me it comes with a price. Perhaps what we need is to act as a base for the apprentice to remove the entangling dark weave. When she finishes, we smooth out the lumps left behind and ensure the weaving is balanced once more._"

"_That may require nearly a full circle to carry out_," the sun elf said pensively. "_I will make a request of my brethren in the High Art to help with all due speed._"

"_I will see thee on the morrow_," Kaeldin replied.

Lilleen stayed after Kileontheal left. "I do not think she will get as many volunteers as she needs. That Teshurr would be willing, but by his own deed he would not be able to participate."

"I think that whoever she can pull together will be enough," Kaeldin said resignedly.

The lore mistress looked at him carefully. "You are not planning on walking away afterwards."

"Filaesande repeated all the way here me that Corellon still has tasks for me," the sylvan elf mage replied and looked out the window. "Fixing that will be the last one."

* * *

In the morning, Jassin returned to guide them up the Hill into Evereska. In many ways, the elven city reminded Kaeldin of Miyeritar. _It's very sad_, he thought, _But it lacks the undercurrent of fear and violence that marked Aryvandaar's occupation_.

Some of that recognition must have been showing on the mage's face, for Jassin told him quietly, "We've had two wars in less than a few decades. Shade's return did us no favors."

"I can imagine," Kaeldin replied quietly. "Are you getting infiltrators on a regular basis?"

"They get caught quickly," the trap springer shrugged. "Even though they live as long as we do, at the heart of it they are human and think like humans."

"Except for this one," the mage grumbled.

Jassin nodded. They continued the walk up in silence.

Kileontheal met them outside one of the graceful spires. "Good, you are here," She waved the others away. "Jassin, you know what to do. Find him!"

The moon elf tapped the others and led them away. Heinfor grinned fiercely and broke away from the group, presumably eager to start hunting on his own. The mage followed the sun elf up into the tower. "You have people you want me to meet, I presume?"

"Yes." Kileontheal left it at that.

The sudden paranoid urge to make a break for it welled up briefly. The mage squelched it. _Old habits die hard_, He thought in irritation. _The older they are, the more they kick._

They came up to a sun room. A few older elves lounged inside. Kaeldin could feel the Art they commanded and realized something with the ghost of a grin. _They are not my equal. I probably have a heavier kick to my spells now._

"You are..." The younger of the two mages started, a jovial looking fellow with dark hair and blue eyes.

"I am Kaeldin Raetlun of Kraanfhoar," Kealdin said coolly. _There are going to be politics. There are always politics. Now I have to see what they are going to be. That other mage looks like he's going to be trouble._ Kaeldin eyed the male sun elf warily.

He felt a very familiar presence nearby. _Lilleen_. Through her he could remember the support of the Kraanfhoar circle. A new spot tickled his senses, bright and young. _Mirandaline_, he realized. _She must have managed to get back to Faerun_

"I am Breithel Olithir, grand mage of Evermeet," The sun elf said with authority. "I'm sure there are many things you can teach us. I would like to invite you to..."

"I will not go anywhere further on Toril without my apprentice, Mirandaline," Kaeldin interrupted. "I am sure you had a lovely speech rehearsed, but somehow, I think little Mir would not be as welcome."

"'Little'?" The moon elf mage asked. "Kileontheal said your apprentice was on the young side but how young are we talking about? I'm Graelim by the way."

Lilleen appeared next to Kaeldin and the sylvan elf was glad of the lore mistress's cool collected presence. _There's something to be said of an elf who never batted an eye at the Vyshaan who would ransack our offices._ "Mir has not yet attained her first century," She said evenly before turning to her fellow Miyeritari. "She's out and heading this way as quick as she can."

Olithir stared. "That young, she would not be able to wield the high art at all."

"And she does not," Kileontheal said sharply. "She pushes at what is already there..."

"And tends to put it back when she's done." Kaeldin added. He grinned fiercely. "She can also do what none of us can and disentangle the shadows from _this_ mythal. I presume that Kileontheal has told you of the problems?"

"Grand Mage Olithir will not help," the small sun elf said. Kaeldin could hear the edge of anger in her voice, sharp enough to cut glass.

"You do not help your own?" Lilleen asked in icy disapproval.

"There are too few of the High Mages," Olithir spread his hands. "The Phaerimm... the attack on Evermeet... All of these have cost us dearly of one of our most precious and most difficult to train resources."

Lilleen snorted. "Small wonder that Teshurr resorted to the telmirkara neshyrr."

Olithir glared at the transparent lore mistress. Kileontheal spoke up, "Graelim, Would you be willing to help?"

The moon elf glanced at Olithir. "I would want to meet the girl first."

The sylvan elf nodded and then felt something pulling at his psyche. _Oh no, not again..._ "I need an anchor!"

"Hold him!" Lilleen ordered and swiftly blinked out.

Kaeldin heard Arvandor's siren call and fought to remain. A strong personality held on to Kaeldin's but the call latched on to them as well. A third, extremely familiar presence latched onto the pair of them with a grip of adamant and resolve to match. The episode passed and Kaeldin's vision returned to find Mir in her tavelling coat with her bow on her back, pale hair dyed black, one dark hand gripping his and the other holding on to Graelim. "You are a welcome sight, young guardian of Kraanfhoar."

"I must respect my elders," She smiled. "Heinfor met us at the fey gates. He's leading the rest in."

"The shadow elves.. they didn't...?" Kaeldin had worried about what had happened after he had been removed from the old library.

"Everyone's fine," The psion turned and looked at everyone else in the room. "I know Kileontheal. Who are they?"

"Mage Olithir of Evermeet and Mage Graelim of Corellon knows where," Kaeldin waved vaguely in their direction. "Can I get something to drink?"

Kileontheal waved a quick spell and whispered a few words. The sylvan elf heard something about tea. Olithir eyed Mir warily. The dark-wood elf had assumed a neutral expression that Kaeldin remembered from her weapons practice. He suppressed the urge to grin. _If Olithir thinks that he can crack her, he's got another thing coming._

"You are from Evermeet." Mir cocked her head to the side. "My mother refused to go, something about a home being worth fighting for. I will not be going to the island... not ever perhaps."

Olithir gave a brief nod and turned to Graelim, "Are you coming?"

"I said I wanted to meet the fabled apprentice." The moon elf reminded the mage from Evermeet. The sun elf left and Graelim turned to Mir. "Now what shall I make of you?"

"I'm not a mage," the psion said warily. "And I am not an enemy of the People."

"I could feel that," The moon elf agreed. "Yet you can perceive and bend magic?"

Mir nodded. Kaeldin heard Kileontheal come up and she presented him with a cup of tea.

"And you are willing to serve the People?" Graelim asked insistently.

"_I so swear on Corellon's sword to serve the People to the best of my ability as the guardian of the library of Kraanfhoar_," The young dark-wood elf intoned gravely.

"Right," Graelim looked around at everyone else. "So... finding this drow bastard and then wrecking his plans?"

A silent chorus of assenting nods answered him.

"I'll have to find him directly," Mirandaline stated. "I have to be close to pull his magic away."

Graelim raised his eyebrows. "Define close?"

"Touching," Mir, Kaeldin and Kileontheal chorused.

Graelim sucked in a breath. "Well, that makes it a bit tricky then."

"Fortunately," Mir said lightly, "Tricky runs in my family."

Kaeldin could feel the tense shimmer of fear off the young elf and her attempt to hide it. Kileontheal cleared her throat "Are you familiar with the spell of renewal we will be using, young Mir?"

The dark-wood elf shook her head and the sun elf continued, "Well, no better time than the present to learn the basic principles."

"The cost to us is likely going to be very high," Graelim noted. "I hate to say it..."

"I'll take care of that particular problem," Kaeldin assured him. "they rest of you just have to let go when the time is right."

* * *

Author's Note: I am the worst at regular posting in the universe. But I heart anyone who bothered to read it this far. :)


	23. Downfall

Disclaimer: Any complaints that WotC has with this will be printed out and made into toys for my pets to destroy. Besides, why would they be interested in my little alternate universe? Oh right, mine makes a better transition than theirs. :P

-)-

So we're trying to find this Sharnar?" Ricardt asked. "Who probably doesn't want to be found and can in all likelihood turn us all into bits of charcoal before we get three steps in."

Recently returned from consulting with the Evereskan High mages, Mir nodded glumly. "It gets better. His alterations stay if I can't get control of them and he has to be alive for me to do that."

"Usually at this point I'd say something about having faith to do the impossible, but it's looking like a pretty tall order," The paladin noted and sighed. "Well, if it has to be done it has to be done and complaining that it's too hard to succeed at all won't get anyone anywhere."

"Will unconsious do?" Heinfor snickered.

The scout's bravado belied the serious expressions of the others. Teilla uncharacteristically said nothing. Ricardt couldn't blame her. _Battle has never been her strong suit, but we can use every last edge we can get._ Filaesande and Nesterin had gone to help the older mages with the spell casting. Maresa needed to report back to Myth Drannor, leaving Heinfor, Ricardt, Teilla, Jorin and and Jassin to find the shadow elf and stop him. The Evereskan elf led the way towards where he had seen the disguised Chaulsinn hanging around recently.

"He's been going underground," The trap expert put in. "There are a couple of crypts he seems to like being around and I know they have a couple of connections to natural caverns that go deeper. Not sure what he's doing, but I'm pretty sure it qualifies as 'no good.'"

"Maybe there's an anchor for the mythal," Teilla ventured thoughtfully. "Maresa mentioned something about a 'mythal stone' when she was talking about their work to sabotage the Daemonfey."

"Stones make it easier to anchor magic," Mir nodded. "A stone for a mythal would be well hidden, guarded by the wards it anchors, wrapped in protective magic itself and patrolled any number of other things from golems to baelnorn. It should be difficult to access."

"But probably easier if you've got destructive magic no one's ever heard of from the Crown wars with you," the bard noted sourly.

"Or if one takes multiple trips down," Jassin added, "Getting a little farther each time, if they have anything resembling knowledge of their limits and knowing when to back off."

"Remind me to not volunteer for hopeless causes again," Jorin grumbled.

"There is no such thing as a hopeless cause," Ricardt told the half-elf ranger.

"Nope, just ones with very low odds of success," Teilla added. The paladin nodded in agreement.

"Well, even he got rid of most of the unpleasant surprises that we usually leave around for interlopers," the trapspringer cautioned, bringing their attention back to the task at hand. "There's every possibility that he left something behind to make things difficult for anyone following him."

"You didn't check?" Heinfor asked.

"I'm not crazy about going to face a shadow caster in the dark by myself," Jassin shuddered. "Particularly not a drow mage. And trust me, shadow casters are bad enough."

"We're going now, it will have to do," Mir forestalled any more debate. "If we find him, we take him down. If not, we wait and then take him down when he gets there."

As they kept a brisk pace to one of Jassin's crypt entrances, Ricardt surveyed their motley crew. Jassin and Jorin looked worried, but focused. Heinfor looked almost eager to do something useful and seemed to look forwards to scoring one against the shadow elf. Mirandaline had somehow assumed leadership of the expedition. _Well that's a far cry from when we first met her in Whizban_, Ricardt mused. _And Teilla..._

The paladin dropped back to walk along side the bard, who looked plainly scared. After a few moments of quiet, Teilla asked, "Think we have a chance of succeeding?"

"There's always a chance," Ricardt said gently. "Just because it's difficult and looks hopeless doesn't mean that it isn't worth it to try anyway."

"I know," She said softly. "I'm scared."

"Me too." When Teilla looked at him in surprise, he tried a smile. "I'd like to think that I'm not such a fool as to not be scared. Don't let the crunchy exterior mislead you." At her skeptical look he added, "All right, quite a few paladins seem to be idiots. Not all of them though."

"I know, you are all honeyed cream inside," Teilla managed a smile. "I just don't want to..."

"They will have to get through me first," Ricardt promised. He kept pace with her as they started through the upper levels of the elven crypts.

The stone work was carefully carved into reliefs that looked like trees and flowering shrubs. The overall effect was less one of maudlin grief and melancholy and more one of quiet repose and contemplation. Few of the crypts themselves were overly dusty and everything seemed like like it did get visitors in on occasions. One of the small alcoves even had fresh flowers in it. It was slightly disconcerting to the paladin although upon further reflection he supposed it made sense. _If they're used to living for a long time, they don't need to feel rushed about anything, including dying_. He reconsidered. _Except for recently_.

Jassin and Mirandaline lead the way looking for snares both magical and mundane. Heinfor followed close behind, presumably to deal with more physical threats. Jorin, Ricardt and Teilla brought up the rear. They made a few turns into the catacombs before th Psion and the moon elf found a hidden door. Mir ran her hands lightly over it and muttered, "Cold... slimy... makes me slightly ill... This way."

Jassin nodded and examined the door himself. "No traps." He found the catch and they kept going.

The half elven ranger muttered, "I don't like this."

Ricardt nodded. "It's too quiet."

Teilla grumbled. "You just know that Tymora is going to smack you for saying that."

They headed from a worked stone passageway to a more natural cave passage. Glowing patches of lichen dotted the walls and ceiling giving everything an eerie greenish glow and the entire place smelled of minerals and water. "We found a foot print," Jassin called softly. "Mir thinks that it's recent."

"In a cave?" Jorin snorted.

"Recent due to the shadow magic clinging to it," Mir countered. "I am somewhat worried by the fact that it's longer than my bow though."

"A golem." Heinfor asked looking at the wall carefully.

"Maybe. It's..." Mir stopped and Ricardt had an impression of the psion's green eyes widening. Without waiting, he shoved Teilla back the way they came, grabbed hold of Jorin's collar and hauled the ranger back. Mir and Jassin dodged forwards with Heinfor on their heels as a large shadowy form dropped from the ceiling. It took a swipe at Heinfor. The scout dodged back, drew his sword and slashed at the thing. Jorin joined in with his blades in hand and suddenly their attacker was wreathed in bright green flames. _Mirandaline_, Ricardt thought as the manikin shape's shadow stuff swallowed the green flames. "Teilla are...?"

The bard sang three high, clear notes and cracks appeared in the golem's shell. "I think the bastard knows we're coming!" she called above the noise of the rangers hacking at the thing.

The construct shifted and swiped at Jorin, who dodged back. Heinfor took the opportunity to try slipping his sword point into one of the seams in the thing's took a breath and pulled his own sword free of its scabbard, but Teilla cut in, "Ricardt find that Chaulsin and stop him. I can handle this."

The paladin risked a glance at his partner, got a good look at the resolved look on her face and quickly intoned a prayer instead of the protest that had immediately come to mind. "Tyr guide your spells and song!" He told her before clapping her on the shoulder, dodging around Jorin, Heinfor and the shadow manikin to catch up with Jassin and Mir. The trap springer fired off a few ineffectual arrows as the psion restrung her bow. _Must be a snapped bowstring_, the paladin thought as he nudged the pair further down the corridor. _We have to be close to that shadow elf or the mages have already started their part of trying to repair the mythal and he's trying to counteract them._ Mir turned and started running down the tunnel. Jassin and Ricardt followed on her heels.

"We'll come as soon as we can!" Heinfor called after them. The scout's voice echoed off the stone walls. "Save enough of the shadow loving squirrel brain for me to get a few cracks at him!"

Ricardt could see the quality of light change from green to pinkish as they came closer to a large chamber. Mir slowed and stalked closer, peeking around corners from a low crouch. Ricardt and Jassin hung back, trusting, the dark-wood elf to scout ahead._ No time for regrets now,_ The paladin thought as as Mir held up one finger and then made an uneasy motion before holding up a second finger. One for sure, maybe another. Probably another of those manikins. He nodded. Jassin pulled a short sword from a sheath on his back and took a few deep breaths. "Tyr guide our blades," Ricardt prayed softly. _And let me see Teilla again._

The paladin led the way into the chamber and found it occupied by one male elf facing a glowing pink stone, it's facets wreathed in visible strands of shadow stuff. He narrowed his eyes and headed directly for the strange elf, hoping to keep the element of surprise as long as he could. _Failing that I can keep his attention on me and give Mir and Jassin a chance._

The elf must have heard Ricardt coming, because he turned before the paladin got halfway across the room. As soon as he saw the human, the elf made a curt gesture and Ricardt heard a whooshing noise some where behind him. He squelched the urge to look back and kept heading towards the strange elf. The strange elf swiftly wove shadows about his hands until a really big hand formed to swat at the paladin. Ricardt ducked rolled and found himself face to sculpted face with another shadow manikin. Swearing under his breath, he dodged and slashed at the construct.

_Where are Jassin and... oh._ He caught sight of the moon elf crumpled in a motionless heap near one of the chamber walls. He heard a sharp pop as the psion risked a teleport. The strange elf shouted something and the big shadowy hand swatted a few times at the dark wood elf. Ricardt had to focus on the manikin, but his heart felt like it fell out of his chest when he heard something connect like a slap twice in rapid succession. He danced back, away from the manikin and took a quick inventory of the room. Jassin had not moved and Mirandaline now slumped against the glowing stone, insensible.

Ricardt had just enough time to see the shadow elf make a cutting gesture through the air before his knees and sword side shoulder took heavy impacts more or less at once. Then the world went white with pain.

-)-

Sharnar looked over his handiwork of the past few minutes with a feeling of irritation. _Damned surfacers._ The human groaned quietly as the shadow infused automaton loomed over him. _I am so very glad I installed those here though. It makes it worth the trouble of stealing them from that artificer in Balefire years ago._

Sighing with resignation, the dragon touched drow walked over to the human warrior and kicked the sword away from his limp hand and surveyed the damage. _One, maybe both knees broken. The shoulder, definitely broken._ "You can keep the shield for now surfacer," Sharnar said in his heavily accented Common. "I have other things to attend to." _And I am far, far too close to my goal to delay my victory by killing you now._

He turned back to his spellcasting and felt the pull of the light elves against his. _I don't know where they dug up that really powerful mage from, but it's too little, far, far too late. I have the leverage now._

He resumed his spell casting and felt the pull of the enemy mages surge against him, but Sharnar's earlier ground work and all the work he had put into it now paid its dues. He solidified his locks over the holes he had put in place and set them down tight against the straining weaving. With a sudden exhilarating rush he realized, _I did it! I bound the mythal to uselessness against my people and now we can take it for ourselves!_

The light elven mages continued to strain to regain their weaving. Sharnar maintained his touch on the shadow weave he had pulled up for the last sequences of spells. _I want to feel them lose hope one by one._ He smiled as he surveyed the room, _And now I have prizes to play with down here._

The dark skinned elf slumped against the mythal stone began to shudder and mutter very softly to herself. As he cast a minor spell to wash the makeup from his face, Sharnar took a long look at her. _That looks like the girl Gorruan was supposed to intercept... I suppose he's no longer a factor anymore. I guess that I'll have to figure out how to explain it to the patron fathers when I return to Chaulsinn. In any case, she is a pretty thing. Assuming I can control her, she would make an excellent start to a harem of my own..._

A sharp gasp interrupted his thoughts. Sharnar looked up and saw a half human with a few scrapes on her standing in the chamber entrance in shock, a small sword hanging forgotten in her hand. _Well, this looks like it can be easily dealt with..._

He took a few quick strides to the human, who tried to slither out of reach. The shadow mage drew a long knife from his belt and held it to the dark haired human's throat. "I suggest you stay where you are, half blood," Sharnar ordered firmly.

The red head mongrel had moved a few steps towards him but stopped when she saw the knife resting on the warrior's throat. The shadow elf checked where the manikin was in relation to the female. _It can reach her easily_. He grinned. _Oh, I am in such a good mood today..._

-)-

Teilla saw the strange elf hold the knife to Ricardt's throat and stopped her half thought out motion forward. Mir and Jassin as sources of help were clearly out of the question, if not dead. _Ricardt would have gotten away if he could_, she thought in despair. _Corellon, Tyr help me!_

The mage began to talk again, "I've had a really excellent day today. A few setbacks, true, but a rather satisfying day nevertheless. Your mages have failed."

Teilla rocked back on her heels. _No... no... no..._

"Incidentally it doesn't really matter to me if I kill you now or if you die slightly later," The disguised shadow elf continued in an oh-so-reasonable tone. "And since I'm in such a magnaminous mood today, I'm going to offer you a choice. Take your human and leave... Or watch him die just before you do."

The bard's mind stopped. After a few moments she asked, "What about the others?"

"They are not a part of this deal," The shadow elf said without concern. "The mongrel elf will make quite the prize all by herself. This is just for you and him. I've no plans that involve humans at the moment."

Teilla swayed on her feet uncertainly. _Jorin and Heinfor were still trying to bash the construct like that one into submission when they told me to run ahead. I can't win against it on my own._ Mir murmured something from the base of the stone. The shadow elf smirked like he knew what she was thinking. Ricardt caught her eyes. With the smallest of motions he shook his head, determination mixed with pain written plainly all over his face.

The bard felt some of the paralyzing fear lift. _I could save us both, but he would never forgive me for it._

She tightened her hand on the short blade she used only rarely. Most of her spells had been used against the manikin outside. _I couldn't stand knowing that he'd hate me forever if I failed everyone like this._

Teilla started to hum her wordless battle song as she stepped forwards to meet her fate head on.

-)-

Mirandaline drifted.

Voices drifted with her, like a school of small fish nibbling at her sense of self. One of them kept calling her name. She fell deeper into a black sea of oblivion and the erosion at her being continued. So did the voice calling to her, but it was lost in the myriad voices that continued to strip her away to nothingness.

Somewhere deep down a small flutter of panic stirred to life. It did not like the voices that nibbled. It moved more and more frantically, trying to scare off the things taking her away from herself until it burst forth in a shriek, breaking the surface of the waters of forgetful bliss like a whale breeching.

_**GET AWAY FROM ME!**_

The voices immediately backed off. Mir began to focus hard on pulling herself back together. The voices sorted themselves into presences, one of which, busily shooed the others away for a bit, before handing off the job to another. They were familiar. The medium she felt was simultaneously electrically stressed and resolute, joyous, sad and determined all at once. Yet there were strands of ice and slime laced through it. Some of it she could feel had congealed into clumps...

_Mir?_ One of them asked.

_Kaeldin?_ She asked back. _He out maneuvered me, I tried..._

_He did not do as good a job as he thinks he did_, Kaeldin came back with a tinge of smugness. _Corellon must favor you. You hit the mythal stone._

_We have to move quickly_, someone the psion did not immediately recognize noted. _We cannot keep this up forever._

The voices started to blur together again, but this time with her senses more or less in order, it stuck mostly to surface thoughts and feelings. Unbidden, she mentally giggled. _I am so glad I am not usually a telepath._

_I am sure the empathic receiving is more than enough, child_, another voice, Kileontheal, gently broke in. _To the task at hand..._

_Mir can you feel the shadow strands?_ Kaeldin asked.

_Yes_, she answered. _They are pretty obvious to me. They feel different._

The less familiar voice broke in_, Can you follow them back to their weaver?_

_Yes, but he has Ricardt. Jassin is hurt, I think. He feels fluttery..._

The other mages began to press in and mingle with her mind to theirs. It became less important who thought what, including herself. It was far more important that the thought occur within the mage circle.

_We will still need to wrest control of the shadow weaving _

_from the traitor elf. We might be able_

_to save the others. At least we can buy_

_them some time. Need power. Weave pulling_

_Is a great strain. Need speed to save _

_the others. We have it to spare. What do we want to _

_do with the shadow strands _

_once we have them? A counter weave, _

_like a double knot. Strengthen our own _

_weaving with it. Need to hurry else _

_the cost become higher _

_than it is. It is time to _

_**GO.**_

Mir opened her eyes and the scene in front of her moved as if in a slow dream.

The shadow elf had shed his disguise and stood over a badly hurt Ricardt, knife just starting to move across the paladin's throat. Teilla moved towards the shadow spell caster with grim determination and small sword in hand. The spell caster's manikin moved towards Teilla. The bard would be intercepted before she could stop Ricardt's throat from being cut. Jassin was still insensible in the corner, alive but unsteady. The psion could feel Heinfor moving towards the chamber. Her path seemed as clear as air.

She let her wellspring of psionics open as wide as she could. The ferny smell her ability always left behind flooded the room and the distance between her and the traitor-elf disappeared. She now stood between the drow and the paladin. The blade had not yet bitten into Ricardt's neck when Mir let loose a burst of kinetic energy that knocked the dragon tinged drow back several feet. A second burst kicked the shadow touched manikin away from the bard, leaving the construct askew near the entrance to the chamber. Surprise just began to register in Teilla's face as Mir turned back to face the traitor-elf.

The unnatural acceleration began to wear off as she drew her heavy fighting knife in a reverse grip, the blunt edge snug against her forearm. She went after the shadow caster.

He registered her movement, but all of Mithias's persistent rough and tumble training allowed the psion to duck under his first knife slash and hit him across the face with her pommel. The drow staggered back a step and Mir swung her blunt edge at his exposed nape, using her momentum and leverage to force him to fall forwards. She fell with him and landed on the shadow mage's back. The air whooshed out of him and she scrambled to pin him down. A whisper of kinesis sent his knife skittering out of reach. She tossed her own blade aside. It would get in the way now.

Now for the tougher part. She found the shadow weavings easily enough. They felt awful. Even so, she wrapped her will and her hands around them and pulled with all of her will. He came to his senses enough to start to fight back, but her position was stronger than his. _You will not find victory! Not today, outcast!_ She gave another hard yank and felt the shadow weave come tearing off him.

_Young Mir! Hurry!_ Kileontheal called.

Jassin's fluttery sense had gotten stronger and slightly less confused. Heinfor was very close by. The manikin began to stir. The psion saw that Teilla had reached Ricardt. Everything was still uncertain. _Hold on, please hold on!_ Mir thought as she teleported once more.

The circle was starting to tire.

-)-

Teilla saw a blur that resembled Mir suddenly appear in front of the shadow drow and blast him backwards. The bard heard A similar kinetic blast slam into the manikin as she took advantage the opportunity to check Ricardt. "Oh you are just a mess, aren't you?" She breathed in shock.

"Do me a favor and don't tell me how bad it looks," the paladin grunted and looked over her shoulder. "Looks like the plan is still on."

The bard risked a glance towards the psion as she wrestled with the mage. Dark shadow stuff flared up around Mir's hands and seemed to loop round them as she forcibly yanked the magic away from the drow. She shoved the mage away from her and for a moment Teilla did not recognize the dark wood elf as she breathed silvery steam and sent, _Hold on, please hold on!_

Then she was gone, leaving Teilla the only one capable of holding a weapon against the dazed drow mage or the stirring manikin. _Oh, I was not the sharpest blade in the barrel today, was I?_ She thought nervously.

Ricardt moved a little and said, "Take the shield and think defensively?"

"Ever the optimist, aren't we?" The bard tested the weight of the kite shaped metal shield and decided against it. "Too heavy."

"Yah HAH!" A loud wild voice shouted. Half a moment later there was a crash followed by the sound of metal clashing against metal.

"I think Heinfor's got the manikin covered," Ricardt called.

Teilla barely heard him and instead stalked towards the dragon-touched drow. He looked up, glared at her and made a quick gesture. Teilla started a song to counter the spell but nothing resulted from his hasty casting except for a small shower of blue sparks. Teilla felt a little bit better and grinned with bravado, _Mir must have stripped all the magic off of him._

The drow realized it too, for he made a quick movement towards what looked like Ricardt's discarded sword. Teilla followed after him, but skidded to a stop and retreated as soon as he had it in hand. He came after the bard with murderous intention. Belatedly she started to sing, trying to use anything and everything to keep that sword blade away from her and lead him away from the hurt paladin.

It took only a few slashes her to realize that she was grossly out matched. Once she had enough room, Teilla broke her singing off to rattle off a spell of force darts. Two of them did not bite but the other two did. The drow winced and closed the distance, trying to gain enough ground to either get to the door or try to cut the bard down.

Ricardt's voiced called. "Hey, _irinal_!" The mage hesitated and Teilla saw one of the paladin's gauntlets smack the drow in the face. She took advantage of the distraction to try to stab at him. He stumbled away from her but ran into something that was not there a moment ago and fell over backwards.

The bard held her sword on the shadow elf but he did not move. _I don't think he's breathing_, she realized and felt like she could finally start breathing again herself.

Rolling the cooling body over, she found Jassin underneath and Mir's knife stuck in the dead drow's lower back. "Din ah get th' rig' lusin?" The moon elf slurred.

"Yes, you did," Teilla hauled the smaller elf to his feet.

He swayed forwards and nearly fell. _It's almost as if he's really really drunk._ Teilla thought worriedly as she looped an arm underneath him and guided him to sit next to the paladin.

Heinfor shouted from across the chamber, "Go DOWN you bleeding toy maker's reject!" Jorin had caught up and the pair of them seemed to have the shadow manikin well in hand.

Ricardt looked hard at the still reeling moon elf. "Teilla, what do his eyes look like?"

"Ummm..." She looked. Jassin started to slump forwards again. "One's almost entirely pupil and the other seems normal."

"That's a concussion," He confirmed resignedly. "I need a bonesetter, but I can probably heal him a little bit."

Ricardt quietly called up his faith and Teilla heard a loud crash as Jorin and Heinfor finally dismantled the construct enough to ensure it did not get up again. The half elven ranger looked them over and stated, "You look like a mess."

The wood elven scout swatted Jorin upside the head. "It's fixable. And you never tell the wounded how bad it looks." Heinfor looked around. "Mir took off?"

Teilla shrugged. She was starting to feel really tired and the fatigue just weighed on her like an overloaded backpack. "I think she had to go help her circle."

The tall wood elf looked at her carefully. "You look as tired as Ricardt there. Tell you what, the three of you get cozy stay warm and I'll go hunt down someone to haul you all out while Jorin here..." He clapped the ranger around the shoulders, "Jorin gets to keep an eye on you and do fetch and carry if you need it."

Without another word, the scout pulled his cloak off, tucked Ricardt and a now unconsious Jassin in it and started jogging out. The bard said quietly, "That drow was gloating when I got here. Mir woke up and literally tore the weave off him before disappearing. Do you think that they managed to undo the damage to the mythal?"

She received a ripple of tired shrugs in answer. "Have a little faith," Ricardt said gently. "There's not much we can do from here."

-)-

Kealdin felt Mirandaline wrest control from the traitor elf and felt a swell of pride rise and spread out to his fellow mages. He knew that time was beginning to run short for him. He took a deep breath and found the air tinged with a foresty aroma. With a little gust of air, Mirandaline arrived in the primary circle. Space was made for the young elf. With her hands wreathed in shadowy tendrils, Mir began to unravel the shadow drow's weavings. Kaeldin, Kileontheal and Graelim smoothed out the wrinkles in the original mythal as the strain on them relaxed and went away.

When Mir finished pulling the Shadow Weave's tendrils free of the mythal, she was wrapped in writhing shadows except for near her face, where her breath misted out silver and joined the shimmering pool of magical energy that collected between the inner circle of spellcasters. The psion borrowed power from the circle again and started to double weave what tendrils she could through the weaker sections of the mythal, making them stronger.

When she finished, Kaeldin realized that the time had come to make the final donation of engery. Graelim and Kileontheal began to gently withdraw their tenuous connections from his. He bound the lose ends on his side into the weaving with the intention of pulling it tight when he left. Except for one last thing...

_Mir... Let go._ The psion was exhausted beyond forming words, but her could feel the negative response clearly. _You have to pull in the opposite direction for this to work properly_, he reminded her gently.

Around the glare of the energy pool centering the Rite of Complement, he saw Kileontheal take one of Mir's hands in hers. Reassurance flowed from the other mage. _You will be all right, young guardian of Kraanfhoar._

Something very like a sob came thrumming through the connection, poigniant enough to bring tears to his eyes. Mir's mental voice, almost unrecognizable due to the strain she was under, whispered, _I will miss you great-uncle._

He felt their primary connection loosen, not enough to release contact entirely but Kaeldin felt pretty sure his apprentice would not be following him into his next action. He channeled the entirety of the circle's energy pool into each and every strand of the mythal, strengthening as he pulled away from the other mages and what was left of his magic along with his considerable reservoir of life energy singing through the mythal. Pulling the last little bits snug as he let the magic carry him to where he most wanted to be.

-)-

Kileontheal held her end of the joint casting, careful on the release so that Graelim did not suffer any undue backlash. A look at the polished stone floor told her that the two other members of the spell circle had not been as fortunate. She knew without looking that Kaeldin was dead. _He poured a lot of his own energies into ensuring that Mirandaline had the psionic reserves to pull off the stunt with the shadow weave._

_Tried and succeeded at_, the sun elf reminded herself. I could feel her touch running along the main lines of the mythal. _But was she quick enough to let go before her own life burned out..._

"The bitsy one lives," Graelim said softly. "She doesn't seem to want to wake up though."

"Exhaustion of the spirit," Kileontheal guessed. "We're older and thus better able to weather the effort."

"Little Mir is all right?" an accented soprano voice asked over the mages' shoulders.

Kileontheal turned and found the dark elven spirit standing over her worriedly. _Lilleen_, she remembered. _I will have to ask Mirandaline about this later._ "She appears to be all right, although it is traditional for a circle to follow their fallen out of the casting chamber."

"You might be able to shake her awake, but you will likely end up carrying her however far you end up walking," Lilleen shrugged. The sun elf opened her mouth to ask what brought the spirit there, but the dark elf added, "I promised Mir's family that I would check on her. Now if you will pardon me, I have a reunion to see to. Someone who will remain nameless managed to steal libations from somewhere and the rest of the Kraanfhoar circle have to dispose of the evidence. Now, you _are_ going to take care of Kaeldin's apprentice, are you not? She needs a mentor."

"If she will accept either of us as such, we will, lady Lilleen," Graelim reassured the spirit.

"We will speak more of this later." Lilleen assured them and faded out.

_I'm sure we will_, Kileontheal sighed in resignation. "Graelim, if you could call for someone to carry our casualty?" The mage turned to the task of rousing the dark-wood elf.

It took a great deal of nudging and prodding, but the girl finally started to rouse. Almost immediately she started to cry very, very quietly. Kileontheal gathered the psion up and gently held her as some very confused guards wrapped Kaeldin up in a shroud and carried him out. The younger elf did manage to stem her tears when they had to walk forth from the casting chamber, although in Mirandaline's case it was less walking and more moving legs whilst being carried. Kileontheal had a firm hold of the girl's empty weapon belt but Mirandaline herself just could not stay upright.

"Hand her over," Graelim looped the fading psion's arms over his shoulders and scooped her up so that she rested draped over the moon elf's back. "Now if you can keep her from sliding off, we can do our respectful procession out."

"It's traditional to walk," Kileontheal sighed in resignation.

"Non-traditional apprentice," The moon elf reminded her. "One that managed to pull off not one, but two impossible tasks. Now if the little hawk here can keep awake, I think we can adhere to the spirit of the tradition and pay respects to our fallen."

"M' wake," Mir muttered into his back.

Kileontheal nodded and considered what this meant. An apprentice of the High Art whose teacher died in a ritual of High magic was generally taken under the wing of the one of the deceased's circle. _Kaeldin was the last living member of his circle... Oh that sneaky bastard!_ Kileontheal suppressed a huff of irritation. _He knew the whole time that Mir has __to go somewhere and I think he decided on us to act as the replacement teachers_.

This time she really did sigh. _The fourth mess in less than fifty years among the High __mages. Maybe Corellon is trying to tell us something._

-)-


End file.
